THE CHARITY SCHOOL.
As we have already stated, Mr. Byers was very fond of children, and in return, the children were greatly attached to him. In his walks over the hills and along the seashore, he was never without companions, first and foremost among whom, ranked the Greysons and Grimsbys. As the years passed on, his followers increased so rapidly in stature and wisdom, that the old man often contemplated them in silent astonishment, more particularly little Tommy, who, from a tender yearling, had progressed to a stout little fellow of some three or four years, and scorning longer to be a mere portable, used his powers of locomotion to great advantage.
As Mr. Byers was deeply impressed with a sense of his own moral responsibility, he endeavored at all times to instruct as well as amuse the children. He discoursed to them very learnedly upon the nature and habits of shell-fish—directed their young minds to the untiring industry of the wild-bees, and at one time occupied their attention a full half hour, with a lecture upon the rise and progress of mushrooms, which was occasioned by finding a mammoth specimen in a swampy hollow.
For these reasons, the appearance of Mr. Byers at nightfall, was a matter of no slight interest to the young people of the village, and he was seldom seen, at that time, without a large group of children about him, of all sizes and colors. The good old man received all, and rejected none, although there were several among his followers who were highly objectionable. Prominent among these was a big boy of fifteen, familiarly known among the children as “black Jake.” To the little ones, his very personal appearance rendered him an object of terror, but the older children had far more forcible reasons for their aversion to him. He had several times been in the House of Correction, and would have been there oftener, had he not managed to escape the vigilance of the law. He smoked and swore as freely as a much older person, and was always ready for any sort of desperate undertaking. There seemed, however, to be more of mischief than malice in his composition, for although he was constantly playing tricks upon his companions, yet he was very careful not to do them any personal injury, and if he robbed them of anything in sport, he was ready to restore fourfold the next moment. Only when his temper was fairly aroused, was black Jake perfectly formidable, and then he was a very lion. Few grown people dared oppose his wrath at such times, for he was entirely reckless as to what he did. For several weeks he had attended the village school, but after creating a general rebellion, and whipping the master, he turned his back with contempt upon the halls of learning, and took to the more congenial employment of hunting and fishing. In some unaccountable way he had become the possessor of a gun, and it was his constant companion night and day. He was continually prowling about the woods in search of game, and oftentimes the school girls, upon their berrying excursions, had been frightened half out of their wits by the sudden discharge of Jake’s fowling piece close to their ears, or equally alarmed by his springing from the bushes directly among them when they least thought him near.
At one time, a benevolent minister in the village had taken him under his especial protection, in the hopes of reforming and regenerating him; but he finally dismissed him in despair, declaring openly that he believed the boy was “totally depraved.” After this fall from favor, Jake’s last estate was worse than his first, and he was left by friends and foes to work out his own destiny.
Of course, therefore, it was with no slight regret that Mr. Byers beheld Jake among his little company, but he said nothing, for there were several others of the same stamp, and he could by no means reject them. His heart was drawn out with the tenderest sympathy towards the little group that surrounded him, and, to use the language of Scripture—“he had compassion on them, because they were as sheep without a shepherd.” Night and day he was continually revolving in his mind some benevolent purpose concerning them, and finally, a suggestion presented itself, which he readily accepted. Without delay he hastened to Hesper and laid his plan before her.
“Look here,” he said, as he came into the kitchen and found her alone, “I have an excellent project in view, but I want you to help me;—the fact is, I can’t do anything without your assistance. I will tell you what it is: As I was walking with the children to-night, I thought all at once that you, and I, and a few others, could open an evening charity school, so that all these poor children who couldn’t or wouldn’t go to school in the daytime, could have an opportunity to learn which otherwise they would not. Now what do you think of it? Isn’t it an excellent idea? Come, say yes, directly,” said the old man, with great animation.
“Well, yes,” replied Hesper, thoughtfully, “but, then, we shall want a hall and lights, and books and stationery.”
“O, never mind that!” said Mr. Byers—“that’s just nothing as a hinderance. We can easily get all we want somehow.”
“But how?” said Hesper.
“O, now don’t be discouraging,” said the old man entreatingly, “for I have really set my heart upon this matter. If you will only just take right hold, and stir round, and talk to one and another, it will come all right, I haven’t a doubt.”
Hesper smiled, and made no farther objection; but this was exactly the way with Mr. Byers. He was excellent at planning, but never good at execution, therefore nearly all his benevolent projects fell through before they could be carried into effect. Hesper felt very much interested, however, in his present plan, and determined that it should not fail for want of effort upon her part.
The very next day she set herself about the work. The first one she applied to was Dr. Smiley, who approved highly of the movement, and offered her the use of his large hall in the village, free of expense. She next went to Capt. Clark, who agreed to furnish the school with lights, and then she started a subscription paper to obtain money for the books and stationery. This was a great deal for her to do, but the good result which was like to be accomplished, inspired her, and she pressed forward without hesitation.
When aunt Betsey heard of this movement, she said she thought Hesper was making herself publicly ridiculous, and at the first convenient opportunity, she asked her what she expected to get for instructing such a set of “poor, miserable, rag-a-muffins.”
“Nothing,” replied Hesper, “except the satisfaction of doing a good deed.”
Aunt Betsey dropped her work and regarded her with a look of silent astonishment.
“Hesper Greyson,” she said at length, “I believe you are half crazy, and you needn’t be angry with me for saying it, but I can’t help thinking that you only do this to make yourself popular; just like some of those missionary women and tract distributors, who are continually running about from house to house and doing anything but minding their own business. But, however, every one to their liking. If you choose to make a fool of yourself you may, but as to buying books for those miserable creatures to double into dog’s ears and daub with their dirty fingers, I tell you I won’t give the first copper towards it.”
“O,” said Hesper, with a look of smiling satisfaction, “there’s no need of it, for people have been very liberal, and we have already sufficient funds to commence with. Even poor Mrs. Wilkins gave me two dollars without hesitation, and said she felt it a privilege to do so.”
“Debby Wilkins!” exclaimed aunt Betsey, with a look of contempt. “Well now, I do declare! She had much better have kept her money and bought herself a new bonnet, for I must say, that her old one is a disgrace to any Christian woman, more especially one who attends church so regularly. Two dollars! Well I suppose she thought you would tell of it, and she wasn’t mistaken either. Dear me! what won’t some people do for the sake of popularity?”—and aunt Betsey resumed her sewing again with great diligence.
The school at length was fully commenced, and there was a much larger attendance than had been expected. Not only did the children come, but also many of their parents, and teachers were in great demand. Even Fred and Charlie Greyson, with the Grimsby boys, were of great assistance in this respect, for they could, at least, teach the alphabet, although it often happened that some of their pupils were much older than themselves. It was no unusual thing to see little Charlie standing by the side of a good natured old colored lady—who wore both cap and spectacles—and as he slowly pointed out the letters with his little ruddy finger, she repeated them after him with great care. The school was not only composed of pupils of every age, size and color, but also of many nations, but everything went on harmoniously, and their improvement was rapid.
There was one, however, who notwithstanding various invitations, stood aloof from this arrangement, and resisted all efforts to draw him into it. This one was black Jake, and Mr. Byers at length concluded that as he would be more trouble than he was worth, it was best to give him up. Hesper was more hopeful however, and longed for an opportunity to speak with him, which she found it very difficult to obtain.
One day, however, as she was crossing the brook between her own home and aunt Nyna’s, she spied Jake on the bank, skinning a rabbit which he had killed a short time previous. His gun and a bunch of dead birds lay on the ground beside him.
“Dear me, Jake!” said Hesper, as she stopped suddenly—“what a nice parcel of birds you have! Did you kill them all this morning?”
“Yes, every one;” said Jake, briefly, as he continued his operations.
“And what a fine fat rabbit, too! Why, I declare, you are quite a sportsman!”
Jake looked up with a smile—“Yes,” said he, “this is a nice little fellow, and will make a first rate dinner for me. Won’t you please, Miss Hesper, to just hold him by the legs, while I pull the skin off over his back? There, that’s it. Thank you.”
“Why, Jake!” said Hesper, as she let go of the little creature with a secret shudder—“you did that in a real scientific manner. I don’t believe I could possibly have done it myself.”
“Ah!” said Jake, with a gratified look, “there is everything in knowing how.”
“Yes,” replied Hesper, “we all have to live and learn, and there are none of us so wise but what we can learn many things of one another. But that makes me think, Jake—why don’t you come to our evening school? We should be glad to have you.”
“Because I don’t want to,” he replied decidedly, “and what’s more, I won’t. I haven’t been to school since I licked the master, and if I should go again, it wouldn’t be three weeks before I should do the same, and that would be the end on’t.”
“But, Jake,” said Hesper, pleasantly—“I should be your teacher, and you wouldn’t lick me, would you?”
The rude boy looked up to her face with a broad grin.
“Lick you!” he repeated, while his countenance assumed an expression as though the idea was perfectly preposterous; “I would sooner cut off my right hand first—and what’s more, if I saw any fellow lift his finger against you, or even make an ugly face at you, I’d skin him as quick as I did this rabbit.”
“Then Jake,” said Hesper, “you are just the one I want, for sometimes I have a great deal of trouble, and I need a good friend to stand by me so you’ll come to-night, won’t you?”
“I don’t know about it,” said Jake, with some hesitation—“When I get among the white boys they call me a nigger, and that makes me so mad I could kill ‘em with a good will.”
“Jake,” said Hesper, as she laid her hand on his shoulder and looked him earnestly in the face, “if you’ll be my friend, I’ll be yours, and whoever treats you unkindly, it shall be all the same as if it were me. The Good Father, up there in heaven, cares nothing for the color of the skin. It is the heart alone he looks at, and therefore I shall do the same. We should all love one another in this world like brothers and sisters, Jake, so don’t turn away from me when I want to do you good, but I pray you, try my friendship a little while, and if it does not satisfy you then seek something better.”
Jake dropped his rabbit upon the ground, and looked up to her with tears in his eyes.
“Miss Hesper,” he said earnestly, “I believe you are a good angel, for nobody ever spoke so to me before. If you’ll only be kind to me and love me all the time as you do now, I’ll go to school or anywhere, and do just as you want me.”
There was a convincing earnestness in his manner, and Hesper felt that she had touched the right chord in a nature which had long been misunderstood.
“That’s right, Jake!” she said, as she clasped his hand with heartfelt sincerity. “Let me see you then at the hall to-night, and I will do all I can to make you happy.”
With a light heart and smiling countenance she turned to pursue her way again, but had not proceeded far, when Jake came running after her.
“Miss Hesper,” said he, “wouldn’t you like to have these birds for your dinner? they are all quails and wood-pigeons, and you will find them nice eating.”
“I shouldn’t like to rob you, Jake,” said Hesper, as she looked at the birds, which she really did not want.
“O please do take them!” he said entreatingly. “I’ll dress them all nicely, and wash them in the brook, and carry them up to your house myself, if you only say so.”
“Well, Jake,” replied Hesper, without further hesitation, “I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will, and I will cook them as nicely as possible.”
Away flew Jake again to the brook, perfectly delighted, and Hesper continued on her way.
There was no small commotion in the school that evening, when black Jake made his appearance among them. He regarded the whole assembly with a look of defiance, but the moment he drew near Hesper, he seemed to soften and bend immediately beneath the glance of her gentle eye. For the first few evenings he did very well, and then he grew restless and uneasy, but Hesper watched him closely, and by her unvarying kindness and attention, she at length succeeded in calling up all the powers of his better nature. Then nothing could keep him from the school, and he made more rapid improvement than any of the others.
Before many weeks, the Charity School became a very popular thing, and visitors came pouring in from all quarters. Among them aunt Betsey at length made her appearance. At first she only came just within the door, and with her spectacles upon her nose, she surveyed the whole school with a sharp, half-contemptuous gaze. Then she drew her dress close about her, and passed along to the place where Hesper was engaged in teaching.
“Mercy me!” she said in an under tone, “what a looking set of mortals! Black, white, grey and all colors—old, young and middling. Why I don’t see, Hesper, how you can stay here five minutes! more especially with that great, dirty black fellow close to your elbow!”
She spoke cautiously, but nevertheless, Jake overheard, and he brought his clenched fist down, with so-much force upon his slate, that he cracked it entirely across, and attracted the attention of the whole school.
“Mercy me!” said aunt Betsey, as she started back in alarm.
Jake was about to spring from his chair, but Hesper laid her hand firmly upon his shoulder. She felt him trembling violently beneath her touch, and she knew that his fiery spirit could ill brook control, but she did not loose her hold, and kept soothing him with gentle words, till gradually he bowed his head upon his hands and rested them upon the table before him. His whole frame shook with emotion, but Hesper knew that the poor boy had won a great moral victory, and her heart rejoiced with him. Aunt Betsey, however, was unconscious of all this, and therefore she regarded him with a very angry and suspicious look.
“Dear me!” she said, after a few moment’s silence, “I can’t stay here another minute. I am really afraid of taking some pestiferous disease in this horrid atmosphere. I think your school is a very good thing, Hesper, and I wish it all success, but I don’t believe I shall ever come again—good night”—and she bustled out, with an expression of countenance, which was anything but pleasing.
For more than four months the school continued in a most prosperous condition, and then, as the evenings grew very short, and many of the scholars were about to leave for their summer employment, it was proposed to suspend the school until the following September. A few evenings previous to the breaking up, however, black Jake was missing, and the sad intelligence was brought that he had fallen from the third story of a house which was in process of erection, and was now lying in a very precarious condition. With all possible haste Hesper repaired to his bed-side next day, and found her worst fears confirmed. He did not seem to suffer much pain, but the blood which flowed slowly but constantly from his mouth, showed that he had sustained a severe internal injury.
“O Miss Hesper!” he whispered, as soon as he beheld her loved countenance, “I knew you would come! All night I have been comforted with the thought that I should see you in the morning.” The tears of grateful affection rolled down his cheeks as he spoke, and he pressed her hand earnestly to his heart.
“The doctor says I am going to die, Miss Hesper,” he continued, “and I am willing to go, for ever since you told me that the Good Father in heaven cared nothing for the color of the skin, I have longed to go to him. I thought once that every body in the world hated me, and so I hated every body, but when I found that you loved me and cared for me, then I tried to be a better boy. I only knew how to read a very little when I came to your school, but you soon made it so easy and pleasant for me, that very often, when I was in the woods, instead of killing birds and rabbits, I would lay down in the bushes and spell out the words in the little Testament you gave me. Now I think it is best for me to die, for if I grow up to be a man, I may become wicked and careless again, and I should never be ready to go. But let me tell now, Miss Hesper, while I am able, it is your love and kindness that makes me feel so happy, and I hope God will bless you for it forever and ever.”
Poor Hesper’s loving heart was so deeply moved by the boy’s earnestness, that she could not speak. She could only put her handkerchief to her face and weep like a child. It so happened that the old minister who had formerly taken Jake under his care, had entered unobserved, and overheard the boy’s words. With tearful eyes he now drew near the bed and extended his hand.
“My poor fellow,” he said, “I have wronged you, but it was because I did not understand your nature. I endeavored to drive you into goodness, therefore you hated me, and my labor was lost. God forgive me that I forgot ‘the charity that never faileth’—the love that ‘overcometh all things.’ But this good girl has taught me a useful lesson, and henceforth I shall endeavor to profit by it.”
The old man knelt by the side of the bed in prayer, and his words came with a perfect gush of earnestness and love. When he arose and looked upon the boy’s face again, he perceived that the spirit even then was preparing to lay aside its mortal garment. One after another the neighbors and friends dropped in, and many of Jake’s schoolmates gathered around his bed. He regarded them all with a pleasant smile—turned his eyes with a look of grateful love to Hesper’s countenance, and then, drawing his weeping mother closer to him, he breathed his life away like a weary child upon her bosom.
A few days after this, the whole school followed poor Jake’s mortal remains to their last resting place, and the old minister addressed the assembly so earnestly and touchingly at the grave, that all were moved to tears. It seemed to Hesper a strange dispensation of Providence, that thus briefly the poor boy had been thrown upon her sympathies, and then suddenly withdrawn when his life seemed budding forth into the fulness of promise. But she felt that a wise purpose had been served, and full of strength and consolation did the thought come to her, that if only in this one instance her labors among the poor children had been crowned with success, she was amply rewarded. Thus she reasoned with herself, but she could not see deeply enough into her own nature, to comprehend, that this one simple incident had formed a chapter in her experience, clearly illustrating the pure principle of love which not only governed all her actions, but was also leading her on to still higher attainments in the future.
AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE.
As time passed on, and Mose made several successive voyages, he was at length promoted to the rank of first mate, and then it was whispered among the village gossips, with some truth, that he had found favor in the eyes of Alice Smiley, the doctor’s youngest daughter. He was not indeed her equal in point of social position or education, but his frankness and manliness of character, his general intelligence and unaffected goodness of heart, had so far won upon her, that she could easily overlook all minor differences. He was also a great favorite with her father, and therefore he would meet with no difficulty in that quarter. Hesper was very much pleased with this arrangement, but the village gossips were greatly surprised, as they had already selected Juliana Grimsby for Mose. Aunt Betsey, in particular, made herself very busy about the matter, and came down one evening for the express purpose of talking it over with Hesper.
“Look here,” said she, “I think Mose is setting himself up most too high, and if I ain’t much mistaken, he’ll find it out before long. These people that are always trying to get themselves in among the aristocracy, seldom escape without punishment. They are petted and patronized for a time, and then pitched out all of a sudden, for some new favorite. I know how it is, for I’ve tried it myself afore now. If he had contented himself among common folks, and taken up with Juliana Grimsby, I should have approved of his choice, and made the bride a handsome present; but now I shan’t do the least thing in the world for him. Juliana is a smart, likely girl, and would have made him an excellent wife.”
“I have no doubt of it,” said Hesper, “but then every one has their own choice you know.”
“Of course,” replied aunt Betsey, “but it may be a mighty foolish choice though, if ‘tis one’s own. There are some people who don’t know what is for their good half so well as others can tell them, and so they often make grievous mistakes, which, with a little advice, they might have avoided. Now if Mose had only asked me, I should have said Juliana, by all means. Just think, Hesper, how handsome she is! why, there isn’t a girl in the village that will compare with her!”
“It is true,” replied Hesper, “that Juliana is very handsome—much more so than Alice; but then Mose don’t think much of beauty.”
“I think he does though,” returned aunt Betsey, “but it’s of a peculiar kind. The beauty of the doctor’s purse is far more attractive than his daughter’s countenance.”
Hesper bit her lips quickly to keep from answering, for she was greatly vexed.
“Now, as far as you and Harry are concerned,” continued aunt Betsey, “I have not a word to say. You are well matched, and I suppose, by what I hear, that he has quite a snug little fortune laid up, by this time. Let’s see; you are expecting him home before long, ain’t you?”
“I should not be surprised to hear of his arrival at any time,” replied Hesper, quietly.
“Dear me!” resumed aunt Betsey, “what a time his mother will make! She thinks so much of her Harry. Don’t you think! the other day she really undertook to pity me, because I had no children! Why, it was perfectly ridiculous! for the Searcher of Hearts knows, that I never desired them.”
Just then, in rushed Bose like a mad creature—he jumped—he howled, he barked, and then laid down on the floor and rolled with all his might.
“Mercy me!” exclaimed aunt Betsey, as she sprang upon the dining table and drew her dress close about her—“The creature is certainly mad! Hesper, put your head out of the window, and scream for help as loud as you can!”
Hesper, however, who was not so much alarmed, was regarding the dog with some curiosity, for this was rather an unusual demonstration on his part. So earnestly was her attention fixed upon him, that she did not perceive the entrance of any one, till a strong arm was thrown around her, and a warm kiss imprinted upon her cheek. She glanced up quickly, at the pleasant, manly countenance that bent over her, and exclaimed “Harry!” for the long expected one, had really returned.
“O law!” said aunt Betsey, as she descended from the table, and shook hands with the young man, “that accounts for the dog’s actions. Why, what a knowing creature he is!” She didn’t stop long, however, for she and Bose never were friends, and never could be.
“Hesper,” said Harry, “I couldn’t wait to see mother, but sent my baggage along and came directly here. I suppose, however, the good old lady will be almost crazy till I come, so I pray you put on your bonnet and shawl and go with me.”
Hesper made herself ready as soon as possible, and while she was doing so, Harry lit his cigar.
“I hope,” said he, as they passed along, “that this smoke isn’t disagreeable to you. Some women have a great objection to cigar smoke, but if you’ll just go over to the windward it won’t come so directly in your face. It’s a bad habit I know, but then if I don’t smoke I chew, and one is about as bad as the other. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”
Hesper could not help feeling a little sorry too, but then, like many other women, she thought that if it was any pleasure or satisfaction to one who was so dear to her, she would try to overlook it. When they arrived at the house, they found Juliana, who had been passing the afternoon there. As aunt Nyna was not expecting Harry before she heard of the ship’s arrival, of course she was greatly surprised. But her surprise could not equal Harry’s, when he found that the handsome and intelligent young lady he met there, was the same Juliana who formerly lived in the house with Hesper. He had known her then, as a slovenly, disagreeable girl, against whom he had felt the greatest dislike.
“I declare!” he said, in a straight-forward manner, as he stood and gazed at her—“I never saw any one so altered in my life! and if you won’t think me impudent, I will also add, or so handsome either.”
A light blush quickly overspread Juliana’s countenance, as she glanced smilingly up to him, which made her appear more beautiful than ever. After this Harry paid her great attention, and when she became a little more acquainted, she grew very social and entertaining.
That night they all walked home together, loitering along in the moonlight, engaged in pleasant conversation, until they parted with Juliana at her own door.
“I declare!” exclaimed Harry again, shortly after leaving her, “what a beauty that girl is! and how charming in conversation!”
“Yes!” replied Hesper earnestly, “and what is best of all, she is good as she is handsome.”
She spoke most sincerely, for she loved Juliana much, and the charity which thinketh no evil, shut out all feelings of jealousy or suspicion from her heart. Harry listened with much interest, as Hesper proceeded at still greater length to set forth the merits of Juliana, and at the conclusion, he simply remarked, that he was glad Hesper had so good a friend.
For the first two or three weeks after his arrival, Harry was quite a constant visitor at the residence of the Greysons, but when Hesper was busy about the house, he usually took Juliana out to ride, or sail, with him, and finally this became so frequent, that the village gossips took the matter up, and aunt Betsey came down to see about it. To her surprise, however, she found that Hesper did not feel anxious or troubled in the least, and therefore she set herself to work immediately, to make her so.
“I declare!” said she, after talking some time, “I don’t see how you can be so quiet and calm about it! Why, if it was me, I’d tear that girl’s eyes out.”
“That would not mend the matter,” said Hesper, carelessly. “If he likes her better than me, let him take her—that’s all.”
“And do you mean to say, you wouldn’t care one straw about it?” asked aunt Betsey.
“If I did, I shouldn’t tell any one,” said Hesper.
“But if you don’t look out for your rights in time, you will be an old maid, certain.”
“Well, what if I am?” was the quiet reply; “that will not hinder my usefulness.”
“Why Hesper Greyson!” exclaimed aunt Betsey. “It’s a horrible disgrace to be an old maid! I tell you, if I was a young girl, I would marry an Esquimaux or a Hottentot, rather than be one!”
“And as for me,” replied Hesper, “I would sooner lie down in my grave, than marry a man whom I did not sincerely love, or who did not thus love me.”
“Very well,” replied aunt Betsey, starting up, “I see that you have some mighty fine ideas on this subject. But let me tell you that if you won’t look out for your own interest in time, and turn out a poor, miserable old maid at last, you needn’t look to my husband for assistance—that’s all.”
After thus relieving herself, she departed, leaving Hesper in rather an uncomfortable frame of mind. As matters continued, the poor girl herself could not doubt much longer, and when, one night, Harry came in and took his seat beside her, she knew the instant she looked in his face, what was the intention of his call as well as if he had already spoken it.
“Hesper,” he said, after a short introductory conversation, “I did think, when I came home, that I loved you better than any one else in the world, but now I know that I do not. I would help it if I could, and if you say so, I will still fulfil my promise, but I feel that with my heart so divided, I could never make you truly happy.”
The color faded slightly from Hesper’s cheek, and there was a scarcely perceptible tremor in her voice, but she looked him calmly in the face and said—
“Harry, if you love Juliana better than you do me, marry her. You could not do yourself or me a greater wrong, than in fulfilling an engagement which you made under a mistaken impression. I do not blame you in the least. Go your way and be happy. You have my best wishes, and I shall ever remain a friend to you and yours, so long as life and breath are granted me.”
For a few moments Harry regarded her with silent admiration. “Hesper,” he said, “you are a noble girl, and perhaps I shall live to repent the step which I now take, in sackcloth and ashes. But O!” he added, as he started up and clasped her hand earnestly, “I cannot! indeed I cannot help it! Think kindly of me, Hesper, and forgive me.”
He pressed her hand to his lips, and turned quickly away, leaving her alone with God and her disappointment. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he went down the pathway, and then falling upon her knees beside her chair, she wept in agony of spirit. There was but one refuge for her. The arms of Infinite Love were open to her, and like a storm-beaten dove she cast herself into them, as into an ark of safety, praying only that the void in her heart might be filled with something higher and holier than aught that earth could give.
A few days after this, Juliana came, and with tears in her eyes, opened her whole heart to Hesper. She received as kind and considerate an answer as that which had been given to Harry, and she went away comforted in the thought that by accepting his offer, she was not trampling on the sacred rights of her friend.
In the course of a few weeks the new engagement was made known, and everybody expressed their astonishment. Hesper bore up bravely beneath it. There was only one thing which deeply disturbed the serenity of her soul, and that was the idle curiosity and most contemptible pity of the village gossips. Aunt Betsey raved, and advised Hesper to sue Harry for breach of promise, directly.
There was one, however, to whom this unexpected change was a cause of the deepest sorrow, and this one was aunt Nyna herself.
“Hesper, my dear girl!” she said, as she came one night, and putting her arm around her, drew her close to her bosom—“I had hoped one day to call thee my own child, but I feel it is ordered otherwise. Between thee and me, I will say, that I fear my Harry is not what he should be. God bless thee, dear one! I trust that He in whom there is neither variableness nor shadow of turning, hath reserved for thee better things.”
A HEART BLEEDING IN SECRET.
There was an unusually large wedding at the Grimsbys, to which full half of the village was invited, and Hesper too was there, looking more beautiful than any one had ever seen her before. She wore moss rose-buds in her hair and upon her bosom, and her white dress, so floating and airy, gave her a light, spiritual appearance, which accorded well with the tender light in her eyes, and the serenity of her pale countenance. When the youthful pair stood up side by side, for the performance of the ceremony, Hesper felt the painful consciousness that as many eyes were turned upon her, as on them. They were probing the depths of her soul, to see how she bore her disappointment; but that calm, sweet countenance, betrayed nothing of the deep emotion within. Neither could the slightest affectation or insincerity be detected in her manner, when, at the conclusion of the ceremony, she went forward with others, to tender her congratulations and the kiss of affection to the newly married pair. The time, however, passed wearily to her, and feeling that she could not bear the scrutiny of curious eyes much longer, she retired at an early hour.
Alone in her little chamber once more, the feeling of her desolation came upon her with over-powering force. Still clothed in her wedding garments, she sat by the open window, looking out through the branches of the trees upon the distant landscape which lay so bright and beautiful beneath the summer moonlight. She held her clasped hands over her heart with a sensation of pain, and as the unnatural firmness to which she had nerved herself gave way, the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Then she thought of that land of peace, “where they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven”—where “there is no more sorrow or crying, but where tears are wiped from all faces.” Never before had she felt such a yearning to lay down her earthly garment and leave the crushing cares of earth behind forever.
“O, that I had wings like a dove, that I might flee away and be at rest,” she exclaimed, as with tearful eyes she looked up to the cloudless heavens. “Pitying Father, take thy poor heart-stricken child to thyself!”
The air of the room seemed close and stifling to her. She longed to be away upon the hill-tops or in the woods, where she had so often wandered. Acting from the impulse of the moment, she threw her shawl around her, and stealing gently down stairs, unbolted the door and passed out. Neither knowing or caring whither she went, she pursued her way with hurrying footsteps, till she came to the village grave-yard.
“O,” she murmured, as she threw open the little gate and entered the enclosure, “ye calm, quiet sleepers, how sincerely do I wish that I too was resting among you!” Then she stopped suddenly, and pressed her hands to her forehead.
“How is it,” she added, in a calmer tone, “am I beside myself, that at midnight I come hither with such wishes upon my lips, because a selfish sorrow has taken possession of my heart? Have I not parents and friends, and all the world to live for? and was life given us only to seek out our individual interests, independent of all beside? O, what a poor, miserable sinner I am!”
Weeping most sincerely over her own weakness and folly, she passed on till she came to the little marble tablet beneath which simple Johnny lay buried. The sighing of the night winds through the willows that grew near his grave, seemed like the soft whisperings of his angel voice. She cast herself with her face downward upon the green mound that covered the child’s resting place, and wept without restraint. How long she remained thus she could not tell, for her very senses seemed to pass away, and she lay there in a state of dreamy unconsciousness. She only knew, that at last, a gentle hand was laid upon her, and some one called her name. Raising her head, she beheld her mother close beside her.
“My child! my poor dear child!” said her mother, “let me take you close into my bosom, as I did when you were an infant, and comfort you with my love.”
“Mother!” said Hesper, “how came you here?”
“I knew, poor child,” she replied, “that your heart was bleeding in anguish, and therefore I could not sleep. I heard you when you went forth, and followed you hither, waiting a little way off, till the first gush of sorrow had passed, for I know by my own experience, that at such moments it is better for the soul to be alone with its God. O Hesper! my child! my child! I would to God I could have borne this great grief for thee! but it might not be. I know also, that it was well I could not shield thee from this chastening of His love. Bear up beneath it bravely and patiently, my child, and in the end you shall see that He ordereth all things well.”
“Yes, mother,” said Hesper, “take me close into your bosom, and let me warm myself upon your loving heart, for greater than your daughter’s sorrow, is a conscious sense of her own selfishness and sin. I thank God in this hour of trial that you are yet spared to me—that I have your faithful bosom to shed my tears upon. I have dared once in my life, mother, to lay plans for my own future—to sketch a bright picture in my imagination, all radiant with hopes of happiness and selfish enjoyment, but I will do so no longer. The vision has passed, and left me sadder but wiser. I thank God for it! and here now, upon this sacred altar of your heart, do I pledge myself to live henceforth only for the good of others. Strengthen me, mother, and pray for me, lest my heart should fail me, for I am too weak to pray for myself.”
They knelt down upon the mound together, and the mother’s petition went up through the solemn silence, beseeching most earnestly that a blessing of strength and consolation might fall upon the heart of her sorrowing child. Those two weak women, kneeling at midnight in that lonely grave-yard, had angel guardians whose help was greater than that of man, and the words of prayer that ascended from those trembling lips, was answered by a blessing of peace, “such as the world can neither give or take away.”
LIVING FOR OTHERS.
“Mother,” said Hesper one day, after sitting in thoughtful silence for some time, “I feel that I must leave home and be doing something decided and useful, or my energies will all rust out in idleness. I have a good opportunity, too, and I think I ought to improve it. Dr. Smiley informs me that a teacher is wanting in the Institution for the Blind, and he says he will secure me the situation at once, if I desire it.”
“Dear me!” said her mother, “I hardly know how we can do without you, my child. That is, without your company, for it is true, that while your father is doing so well, and I have my health, that we really do not need you. But then I dread to have you go out into the great world, for it is cruel and cold, and has many sorrows for a young and tender heart like yours.”
“And that is one great reason why I wish to go, mother, for I desire to pass through the furnace, that I may come out strong and pure at last. I am ready for all things but idleness, that alone burdens my spirit, and leaves me to weep over sorrows that I cannot cure.”
“Well child,” said her mother. “I think you are right. Act as your heart dictates, and have no fear for the result.”
It was only a few weeks after this, that Hesper gave her parting kiss to her friends, and stepping into the stage coach, bade her home farewell for the first time. She felt like a lone bird cast out upon the world, but the strong purpose in her heart sustained her, and she entered upon the duties of her responsible position without fear. At first, with her home sickness and heart sickness, it was a hard struggle, and she feared she should sink beneath it, but she persevered, and gradually her new employment became to her a matter of all-absorbing interest.
The little blind children came with their soft hands and gentle touch, and traced out feature by feature of her face, that they might form a picture in their minds, of her they had learned to love so well. They were soon able to distinguish her footsteps from all others, and her voice seemed like music to their ears. Her sympathy became a necessary thing to the happiness of these youthful unfortunates, and her name was an oft repeated word in their prayers. Gradually the peace that passeth all understanding found an abiding place in her soul, and diffused its serene light over her whole countenance. There was something indescribable in her mien and manner, which drew all hearts after her, and Hesper Greyson, with her meekness and humility, became at length what she had earnestly desired to be:—“A high, pure star, to herald on the weary to the land of rest.” She had learned to live above self, and had consecrated all her powers, without reserve, to the service of others. For one whole year she devoted herself most faithfully to the performance of her duties at the Institution, only accepting, at long intervals, the privilege of a few days to look in upon the loved ones at home. At the end of this year, however, she was to have a vacation of some two or three weeks. She had received intelligence that Mose had arrived, and also during her stay at home, he and Alice were to unite their destinies for life, therefore she looked forward with no slight interest to this interval of rest. She also determined, that upon her way home, she would pass through the city, and spend one night with her old friends, Harry and Juliana, for they had left home shortly after their marriage, and she had not seen them since—indeed, had only heard from them, except by an occasional letter from Juliana, in which she besought Hesper most earnestly to come and make her a visit.
It was an affecting scene to look upon, when the little blind children gathered around her, as she stood in the hall, ready for her departure. Some clasped their loving arms about her, and imprinted warm kisses of farewell upon her cheeks, while others “fell upon her neck and wept sore,” as if their sorrow-stricken hearts already had a presentiment that their beloved teacher would return to them no more.
It was about sunset when Hesper arrived at the residence of her friends in the city. Her ring at the door was answered by Juliana herself, with an infant in her arms. She seemed overjoyed at the sight of Hesper, but Hesper, in return, could only gaze at her friend in silent astonishment, for a most wonderful change had come over her. The dazzling beauty which had once rendered her an object of such general admiration, had all faded away, leaving her face pale and careworn, and in her once brilliant eyes, there was a look of weariness and disappointment, which betrayed a hidden source of sorrow within.
“I am as glad to see you, Hesper,” she said, “as if you were an angel from heaven, for I have hushed up my heart-aches as long as I can bear them, and now I want to pour them all out into your friendly bosom. You were always full of sympathy and love, and I know you are no less so now. How calm and peaceful you look, Hesper, as though you had been thinking of nothing but God and heavenly things ever since I saw you last—while I—O dear!”—and bowing her head to the face of her sleeping child, she burst into tears. Hesper put her arm tenderly around her, and laid her soft cheek to that of her weeping friend.
“You may thank heaven, Hesper,” continued Juliana, “that Harry didn’t marry you, for if he had, you would have been just where I am now. No,” she added quickly, “you would have made a man of him, but it isn’t in me to do that. I haven’t either the faith or patience; but, to speak plain, I get outrageously mad when Harry makes a fool of himself, and I let him know it, too. There’s nothing to do then, but to take it out in quarrelling, and so we have it hot and heavy sometimes, I can tell you. It is only about six months now, since he fell into bad company and evil ways, but if that six months is a specimen of what I am to expect, I hope I may be in my grave before the end of another week.”
“Don’t be discouraged, Juliana,” said Hesper, kindly—“Harry has a good spot left yet in his heart, and the ‘charity that never faileth’ may save him, even now, from destruction.”
“Hesper Greyson!” exclaimed Juliana, “I never saw any one like you in my life. I believe you would try to reform Satan himself by the power of love, if you only had the opportunity. But then it is one thing to say, and another to do, and if you were only in my place for a little while, I believe you would give up all such thoughts forever, and grow desperate like myself.”
“I would accomplish my work, or die,” said Hesper—“more especially, if I had a little one like that, to link me to the one who should be a true and loving father to it.”
“My poor little baby!” said Juliana, as she pressed the child more closely to her bosom; “for his sake alone I have kept back many a hard word and unkindly feeling, for O! it seems a dreadful thing to think of a tender little one growing up after the example of such a father. Yes, for the baby’s sake, if not for my own, I would do all that lay in my power to reform Harry,” and she wept without restraint.
The tea hour came and went, but Harry did not make his appearance, and it was not till a late hour that he sought his home. Then it was evident that he was no longer master of himself, for, upon entering, he staggered across the room without recognizing Hesper, and fell down, all in a heap, near the sofa, upon which he had intended to throw himself. Juliana turned deadly pale, and bit her lips together with a look of desperation.
“There, Hesper,” she said, “what would you do, if that was your husband?”
“I should wait until he was sober, and then plead with him as only a loving wife and mother can. Did you ever try it, Juliana?”
“No! never! The first time he came home thus, I could not find words to express my indignation. I told him that I utterly despised him, and for days not a word passed between us; but, O Hesper! they were the most miserable days of my life. I thought they would kill me. I would do anything rather than experience the like again, for I love him yet, and cannot bear to give him up.”
“Then tell him so,” said Hesper, “and prove it by all your actions. I tell you his nature cannot long stand out against it. Many a worse man has been reformed by a true woman’s love.”
Juliana laid her child in the cradle, and taking a pillow, she placed it at one end of the sofa.
“Hesper,” she said, “take hold of Harry’s feet, will you, and help me lift him upon the sofa?” Hesper immediately complied with her request, and the work was accomplished with little difficulty, for he made no resistance.
“There, now, Hesper,” said Juliana, in a calm, resolute tone—“let me show you to your chamber. As for me, I shall sit by my drunken husband through the night, and if morning brings him back to his reason—God helping me, I will speak to him as I have never done before.”
It was long past midnight ere Hesper closed her eyes in sleep, for her heart was full of sympathy for her friend. She was very weary, however, and therefore did not waken again, till the morning sun was shining brightly into her window, and the jostle and tumult of city life had fully commenced in the street below. Arraying herself in haste, she stole quietly to the head of the stairs. She could hear the sound of voices engaged in earnest conversation below, and therefore she did not go down. A full half hour longer she waited, and then descended to the parlor. Upon entering the room she found Juliana seated beside her husband on the sofa, with her sleeping child in her arms. Harry’s arm was around her, and her head rested upon his bosom. He was very pale indeed, and it was evident that both had been weeping.
“Come hither, Hesper,” said Harry, in a voice tremulous with emotion, as he extended his hand towards her, “you see me here, completely conquered. Strong man as I am, I have become weak as a little child before this woman’s love. O Hesper! if there is anything that will save me from destruction, it is that!” and pressing his wife more closely to his bosom, he kissed her with unfeigned affection. Hesper knelt down beside them, and took their clasped hands in her own.
“Pray for me,” said Harry, “for your prayers, I feel assured, will find acceptance before heaven.” And Hesper did pray, with all the fervent earnestness of her soul, till it seemed as though the very presence of the Lord was in their midst. Harry was deeply moved, and as she concluded, he drew the hands of the two weeping women into his own.
“Be my witnesses this day,” he said, “as I solemnly pledge myself, before God and His angels, henceforth to avoid all intoxicating drinks and evil association. And I will also strive, as far as in me lies, to become a faithful husband and father, and a useful member in society. Whatever my weaknesses or follies are, or may have been, I never was guilty of untruthfulness, therefore you may consider the resolution which I take now, as unchangeable.” A bright, joyful smile beamed over Juliana’s countenance, as she looked up to him with an expression of perfect confidence and love.
“It is enough, Harry,” she said, “and I also will promise that you shall never want for love or patience upon my part, to encourage you in your way.”
A few hours after this, Hesper had once more started upon her homeward journey, and on her arrival, found not only Mose in waiting for her, but also his friend, Mr. Clyde, who had returned from his European tour, and was intending to stop with the family until after the expected marriage.