Part 15 (2/2)
”My eyes are so red!”
”The company is so much interested in Father Brighthopes' story, that n.o.body will see you. Come!--you must.”
Chester was obliged to add gentle force to persuasion, to accomplish his kind design. Finally, she told him to go before, and she would come directly. He took his place in the circle around the old clergyman, and presently she glided to an obscure position, behind Mr. Royden's chair.
There, un.o.bserved, she indulged in her melancholy thoughts, until they were diverted by Father Brighthopes' remarks.
”Thus, my friends,” said he, ”you see that I have reason to bless the wisdom that rained upon my head the grievous sufferings of which I complained so bitterly at the time. Truly, whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. Steel gets its temper from the furnace. What is gold good for, unless it has been fused and hammered? All our trials are teachers; then temptations form themselves into a sort of examining committee, to see how much we have learned by the discipline,--to see how strong we are. If all our worldly circ.u.mstances were pleasant and smooth, who would not be contented with them? But storms come; winds blow, and rains pour; then we turn our eyes inwardly. When earth is dark, we look up.
When men prove false, we remember the Friend who never fails us. In the gloomy valley of the present, we joyfully turn our sight to the soft blue hills of an infinite future. Clouds now and then overcast the sky; but the sun s.h.i.+nes forever. So there is an eternal sun of Love pouring floods of blessed light upon our souls continually, notwithstanding the misty sorrows that sometimes float between, and cast their momentary shades.
”Yes,” continued the old man, warming and glowing with the theme, ”I bless G.o.d for all I have suffered, as all of you will, some day,”--his clear, bright eye fell upon the miserable Hepsy,--”when you look back and see the uses of affliction. It seems to me that the happiest souls in heaven must be those who have suffered most here; patiently, I mean, and not with continual murmurings, which harden and embitter the heart.
Even in this life, the poor and afflicted _exteriorly_ may always, and do oftenest, I believe, enjoy _interior_ happiness and peace, with which the superficial pleasures of life cannot be compared. The great secret it, Love!--love to G.o.d,--love to man,--and a serene and thankful temper.
”But I find that my story has relapsed into a sermon,” said Father Brighthopes, smiling. ”You were all so attentive, that I quite forgot myself. I hope I have not been dull.”
”Oh, no! No, indeed!” cried half a dozen voices.
All agreed that they could hear him talk all night. They had never been so well instructed in the use to be made of afflictions. They had never seen so clearly the beauty of a serene Christian life.
”It's all _excethively_ pretty!” said Miss Smith.
”Well, I am glad if you have been entertained,” said the old man, with moist but happy eyes. ”Good-night! good-night! G.o.d bless you all!”
His fervent benediction was very touching. More than one eye was wet, as it watched him going to his room. There was not much more wild gayety among the little company that evening, but every heart seemed to have been softened and made deeply happy by the old man's lesson.
Hepsy stole away to her room. His words still echoed in her soul. They stirred its depths; they warmed her, they cheered her strangely. All night long her tears rained upon her pillow,--when she slept, as when she lay awake,--but she was no longer utterly wretched. A ray had stolen in upon the darkness of her misery.
”Love!” she repeated to herself. ”Love to G.o.d, and love to our neighbor.
But love must be unselfish. It must be self-sacrificing. Oh, Lord!” she prayed, with anguish, ”purify my bad heart! purify it! purify it! purify it!”
She felt herself a broken-hearted child, humbled in the dust. But a feeling of calmness came over her. Her hot and throbbing heart grew cool and still. Angels had touched her with their golden wings; and her spirit seemed to brighten and expand with newly-developed powers of patience, endurance and love.
Meanwhile, Chester was penning a pa.s.sionate letter to his affianced, wholly absorbed, and forgetful even of the existence of poor Hepsy.
XII.
DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
As Father Brighthopes entered the sitting-room on the following morning, he found Mr. and Mrs. Royden engaged in a warm and not very good-natured discussion.
”Come, wife, let us leave it to our wise old friend,” said the former, the frown pa.s.sing from his brow. ”I agree to do as he says.”
”He cannot possibly appreciate my feelings on the subject,” replied Mrs.
Royden, firmly. ”But you can tell him what we were talking about, if you like.”
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