Harland_From_My_Youth_Up.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
see that not one article of
furniture had been altered, not so much as a book
been removed from its place since last dusted and
arranged all before going to .
had visited the sacred spot avoided by me, every day,
for love of him and in faith in the return of my right
mind. 1 opened the little pocket-bible. worn
book-mark slid into my hand. the book open,
leaned over the window-sill to read in the waning
light the passages against which the embroidered slip
had lain all these mouths.
" said my strength and my hope is perished
from the ; remembering mine afliction and
my misery, the wormwood and the gall. soul
hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in
me.
" recall to my mind, therefore have hope.
384 '' ."
is of the 's mercies that we are not consumed,
because compassions fail not. are new
every morning. is faithfulness. '
is my portion,' saith my soul ; ' therefore will 1
hope in . is good unto them that wait
for ; to the soul that seekctli .'
" is good that a man should both hope and quietly
wait for the salvation of the .
" is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his
youth."
again:
" doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children.
of men."
light failed me there.
******
liad come to live with us in ,
and for two years he remained a part of our family.
worldly circumstances were much improved.
absolute need of making one dollar do for the
work of two; the numberless contrivances and daily-
variations of ingenuity to which we children had been
trained from babyhood these belonged to a past we
yet would not forget, a past, beautiful with the
chastened lustre of love, of self-abnegation and sorrow
for love's sake, a past where all the shadows were
cast backward by the clear shining of the
we were not lot to doubt was our heritage. " chil-
dren, theu heirs 1" was one of what we used to call
" the 's proof -texts."
lived with us then for two years,
" ." 385
insisting upon paying his board regnlarly, and making
us presents now and then never expensive ones, but
always fitly chosen. he died, somewhat unex-
pectedly, after a week's sickness, we mourned for him
deeply and sincerely, with never a suspicion that we
could be anything but losers by his decease.
brothers, who had paid scant heed to his whereabouts
or actions during his lifetime, attended the funeral
without their wives and children ; composed their
patrician features into the prescribed cast of fraternal
regret, and sustained the dignity grandly
throughout the public' ceremonial. imbent
visibly to , as a popular young divine, who
might, by his brilliant career, efface from the public
memory, and partially from theirs, the recollection
that his father was socially and ecclesiastically " a
failure." thawed more generously when they
ascertained that 's wife, a lady accomplished,
and thoroughbred as any in their exalted sphere, was
the daughter of , the wealthy and phi-
lanthropic banker.
had left directions that his will should
be read immediately after the funeral.
"__ mere form, of course! " said .
, aside, to the . " few hundreds
poor contrived to save from the wreck of his
patrimony shall be yours. do not need them.
and are agreed upon this point."
he had said "the few hundred thousands," he
would have been nearer the mark. eccentric
17
386 '' ."
relative had not died a millionnaire, but the amount
of his salvage astounded his affectionate brothers
almost territied us. it was all ^without reserva-
t ion the 's !
arose to her feet, in the midst of the little com-
pany, strangely agitated for one whose usual bearing
was tranquil.
" you sure there is no mistake ! " she asked the
lawyer, almost as if she hoped there might be.
" drew up the will, -s. ," was the reply.
" securities are unimpeachable. testator was
of sound mind. act was deliberate and without
prejudice. me to offer you my congratulations,
my dear madam, upon the good fortune you merit so
richly."
of answering, she left the room, with a
swift, uncertain step. her to her chamber,
uneasy at lier singular behavior, surprised her weeping
as had seldom seen her weep.
" am not ungrateful," she made reply to my
questioning, through her tears. " is very good
gracious and bountiful beyond our most extravagant
desires, to my children and myself. will forgive
me that my first thought was ' did not this
thought come years ago? while he lived!' was
not strong to battle with mean and sordid cares.
was too high-minded to truckle to the popular demand
for novelty and noise. fell in the fight. oue
tithe of this wealth would have preserved to him his
manhood among his f ellowmen ! ! my love ! "
" walking:' 387
was a passionate gust of emotion, although tran-
sient, and stood appalled at its suddenness and might.
there had been times when, in my ignorant
stupidity, had wondered if she had- felt the trials
peculiar to her lot as the wife of such a man one set
in a wrong place (judging after the manner of men},
and viewed through a false medium, all his weary days
as , or any woman as sensitive, would have done.
saw now, as had never* done before, how perfectly
her submission matched her faith ; what a strong stay
was the religion that had borne the wear and strain
of all that had been hers to endure, to do, and to inter-
pret. in all this she had sinned not, -nor charged
foolishly.
what was , that had cried out against the in-
equality of ways !
cast about in my distress for fitting phrases
of comfort, caught the whisper with which she
emerged from the cloud. sat very still, her head
bent upon the big old that had been 's, lying
on the stand before her.
" many rich, not many mighty, are called !
and , am steward! deal
aright with that which is ."
began this story of lowly life and labor, one
stormy night last winter, when could not sleep, for
the wind and the great rain dashing against my vifin-
dow-panes, gurgling and rattling like ice-pellets down
the overgorged gutters, as it di( that last night of the
year when we watched beside 's death-bed.
388 '' .'"
warmtli, verdure, flowers all the glory and
perfectness of the new-bom summer, rejoicing in its
strength are abroad in the earth as write this last
page. by the open window of the fair, large
chamber which is mine in our home, look
across a pleasant garden into other windows, and be-
hold yet pleasanter things.
is aid's house, and between the white cur-
tains of that shaded upper room . see ,. graceful
and handsome matron, hushing her youngest-born to
in her arms. splendid boy he is a year old
yesterday. " 's baby " he is called by both
households, for his namb is , and he loves
me as well as he does his mother. day,
willing, shall adopt him formally.
" home," said above.
and 1 live here, with , who has chosen to be a
business man, and is in . 's office.
is practising medicine here a popular and' able phy-
sician, who has a wife and house of his own.
is pastor of the very church in to which w'e
once hoped would be called.
" is as he would have had it, had he been
allowed a glimpse into the future," said the ,
when the call, unsolicited by the young clergyman or
his friends, was presented to him. " think he is glad
over it to-day."
clatter of high-stepping horses and whirl of
wheels in our embowered street attracts my attention
to a carriage just stopping' at 's door. is
" ." 389
well that is laying baby in his crib, for she
is to have a visitor. lady alights amid a flutter of
blue, white, and pearly-gray that becomes her well,
although she is no longer young. ", taste, and
grace are hers, a distinguished place in society, and
for a husband the most admired pian in ; but
as she stands in the porch, unconscious of my scrutiny,
awaiting the answer to her ring, can discern lines of
care, discontent, fretfulness, and longing upon her
pretty face. "did well for himself,"
said the approving many, when he married his cousin.
outlived her wedding-day but six months,
and by her death the younger sister became sole pros-
pective heiress to her father's estate. after
this event it began to be whispered that had long
been secretly attached to his cousin, but was withheld
from declaring -his sentiments by lurking scruples
touching the expediency of marriage within certain
degrees of consanguinity. scruples were over-
come, rumor presently averred more confidently, and
his passion drawn to the surface by the discovery that
his elderly friend, . , had serious designs
upon the hand of the young lady, in which he was
encouraged by the father, whose admiration for the
splendid cosmopolite's deportment and reputed wealth
was immense. " took the matter in hand
and a vigorous hand his was when he cared to put it
forth to such purpose that the discomfited .
shortly sailed for , with the expressed in-
tention of ending his days on the , leaving be-
390 '' :'
hind him the reputation of being a mercenary adven-
turer, whose scheme of advantageous matrimony had
been cleverly thwarted by the astute clergyman.
gratitude, perhaps, for her deliverance, bestowed
herself and fortune upon him who had achieved the
rescue.
, who knows her better than , " is sorry for
her." she also kaows her husband.
" will never like ," she says, not very
regretfully. " because preferred an honest
gentleman to a clerical diplomat, however
fascinating; partly because he cannot endure a
divided sovereignty. he had his way, his own
church would be the only temple of in this great
town of a quarter of a million souls. does not
suffice him that, by his address and eloquence, his
house of worship is crowded to overflowing, so long as
ours is likewise filled with interested hedrers. am
afraid, sometimes. " this very gravely ^" that he
is not a good man. best of human kind, even
the ministers of the , are but mingled iron
and clay. in his making-up there is so much
that is ^of the earth, earthy,' and the clay is of such a
base sort] "
" knows own, my love," replies the
, in gentlest deprecation; "and our is very
patient."