Part 9 (1/2)
”What do you intend him for?”
”We have no present intentions about his future destination,” said Charles. ”He will remain at school till he is fifteen; so we need be in no hurry about it.”
”Then your sister will continue on her present plan till that time?”
”Yes,” replied Charles; ”for Harriet will not be old enough to go out before five years from this time. Isabella wishes to be independent in two years, and I think she will be well qualified; but it will be a grievous thing to Jane to part with her.”
”It must, indeed,” said Monteath. ”You know I have seen your sister Jane, more than once, and she fixed my attention immediately by the way in which she managed those spoiled children of Mrs Everett's. n.o.body ever had any control over them but your sister; but they are in much better order than they used to be.”
”It gives Jane much satisfaction to think so,” said Charles.
”But it must be very discouraging work,” said Monteath, ”to do her best for them, for half of every day, and to be obliged to surrender them to be spoiled for the other half.”
”I should find it so,” replied Charles: ”but Jane makes as little as possible of discouragements. Her temper used to be an anxious one too: but she has had so much to do and to bear, that she has learned not to look from side to side in hope or fear, but to go on, straight forwards, in the road of duty, whether an easy one or not.”
”She is an enviable person then,” said Monteath.
”All things are by comparison,” said Charles, rather confused when he recollected what he had said about his sister. ”I do not mean that she never flags: I was only speaking of her in comparison with myself, and with her former self.”
”Nothing but religious principle could enable her to do this,” said Monteath. ”This is the secret of her superiority, is it not? Without this her trials would have produced depression, instead of renewed energy.”
”Certainly,” replied Charles. ”There are many who pity her under her weight of cares, and who are grieved when they think that she is an orphan, and that she has more arduous duties to perform than many can get through under the guidance and with the a.s.sistance of parents or experienced friends. But Jane knows that she is guided, though invisibly, by the best and wisest of Parents, and the Bible is to her as His manifest presence: she has recourse to it on all occasions of difficulty, and can never want confidence or feel forlorn, while such a director is at hand.”
”Those whose reason is matured enough, and whose religious affections are cultivated enough to attach their heart and soul to such a guide, may well do without other support,” said Monteath. ”'The integrity of the upright shall guide them!' But there are few of your sister's age who are thus advanced in the ways of wisdom.”
”If so,” said Charles, ”her superiority is to be ascribed to the peculiar circ.u.mstances in which the Father of her spirit has placed her.
And, surely, trials which produce such an effect should be endured with submission and remembered with grat.i.tude.”
”That comes home to my conscience,” said Monteath: ”_I_ am now under trial, and such ought to be its effect upon me. But your sister's circ.u.mstances have been such as to draw her attention from herself, to carry out her affections and fix them on various objects: but I am afraid the direct tendency of personal suffering is to produce selfishness.”
”It may either do that or the reverse, I believe,” said Charles: ”I have known instances of both. I have heard of a cousin of my mother's, who was a cripple from disease. She pa.s.sed through life very quietly. She never complained of her deprivations: her temper was placid, and she found employment for her cultivated intellect in studies of various kinds: but n.o.body was ever the better for them. She did no good, though she never did any harm: she never seemed to love any one person more than another, and of course n.o.body was particularly attached to her.
She lived to the age of sixty, and went on with her own pursuits to the very last, but she left no trace behind her of beneficent deeds, and she lived in the memory and not in the affections of those around her. I have always grieved over the wasted talents of this lady. Half her learning communicated to those less informed than herself, half her time (of which she had abundance) devoted to the a.s.sistance of her neighbours, half her affections exchanged with those who were disposed to love her, would have made her wise instead of learned, useful instead of harmless, beloved rather than served, and mourned rather than merely remembered.”
”But she could not have been a pious woman,” said Monteath. ”A life of selfishness is inconsistent with piety.”
”n.o.body can say that she was not religious,” replied Charles; ”because n.o.body knew what she felt and thought: some say that she must have been pious, or she could not have been placid and contented under her deprivations. I should therefore suppose that she had just enough reliance upon Providence to prevent a naturally cheerful mind from being corroded by discontent: but it is easy to see that she had not those comprehensive views, which teach that the very best of selfish pleasures, those of intellectual cultivation, are to be pursued as a means only, not as an end, and that the grand design for which we are created is to diminish continually our concern for ourselves in an increasing love of G.o.d and our neighbour.”
”I cannot help,” said Monteath, ”applying cases like these to myself, just now. I want to place as many guides and as many warnings before me as possible. I hope it is not selfish to think of these things with a reference to myself, and to tell you that I do so.”
”By no means,” replied Charles; ”for I imagine that you feel the present time as a kind of crisis in your character. I think you must enter the world from a bed of pain, either better or worse than when you left it, and you are right to make use of all the helps you can.”
”Then give me,” said Monteath, ”some instances of benevolence promoted, of hearts and hands opened by personal suffering. It will do me good to hear them.”
Just as Charles was beginning to speak, Mrs Monteath came into the room, and the conversation was turned into a different channel. Charles regretted this, but she had something quite different to ask her son about. The greater part of the day was spent in cheerful chat, and in reading aloud, which Mrs Monteath proposed, that Henry might not exert himself too much in talking. In the evening the young men were again left alone for awhile, and Monteath asked his friend to read a little to him from the Bible. Charles did so with much satisfaction, and after he had done, Henry tried to express to him what comfort and support their religious exercises had afforded him on his night of suffering. Charles rejoiced to hear him say so, but stopped him when he wished to speak of his obligations and his grat.i.tude. They parted for the night with as warm feelings of interest and esteem as one day could produce, and another confirm.
In the morning they met only for a few moments. They agreed to correspond occasionally, and to look forward to a time, not very far distant, when Monteath's visit to London might give them an opportunity of meeting again. Charles then mounted the coach, and sighed when he thought of the friends he had left behind, and of the small number who would greet him with pleasure on his return to London.
CHAPTER FOUR.
When Charles returned to his usual employments, and mixed again with companions who had no peculiar interest in his concerns, he could scarcely for an instant keep his thoughts from dwelling on the home he had left, and his anxiety to know more of Isabella became painful.