Читать книгу Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection - Finley Martha - Страница 27

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"You are meek and humble mouth'd;

You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,

With meekness and humility; but your heart

Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride."

—Shaks. Henry VIIIth.

"Oh, what's that? what's that?" cried a chorus of young voices, as Mrs. Keith and her little troop, returning from their morning stroll, stepped into the front porch at home.

"What indeed!" echoed the mother, as much surprised as any one of the others. "It looks very like a box of goods; but where could it come from?"

"Aunt Wealthy," suggested Mildred, examining it with a curious eye.

"Ah, so you have come back at last, eh?" said Mr. Keith coming out with a smiling face. "That's been waiting for you for over an hour," consulting his watch. "Come let's have dinner and then we'll see what's inside."

"Is it ready?" asked Mrs. Keith, taking off her bonnet.

"Yes; barely time for the washing of small hands and faces," he said, picking up Annis and racing off to the nursery with her; for so they called the room where the little ones slept and were dressed and undressed, though but a small part of the day was ordinarily spent there.

There was no lingering over the dinner table, though the meal was a good one, and the children's appetites had been sufficiently keen until they saw the box.

They ate and drank with dispatch, taking time for but little talk beyond a few conjectures as to its probable contents.

Father and mother certainly shared their curiosity and eagerness to some extent, and did not keep them waiting long.

A few minutes' work with the hatchet and the lid was off.

"Just newspapers!" cried Don, in a tone of bitter disappointment.

"Wait a bit, laddie," laughed Rupert.

"Something else under, I guess," said Cyril, while father, mother and Mildred made haste to lift and lay aside the papers for further perusal, for newspapers were too rare in those days to be despised, even though some weeks old.

"Books! oh delightful!"

"How good and kind in her!"

"Now we'll have a feast!" exclaimed one and another in varying tones of gladness.

"What are they? let us see," said Mr. Keith proceeding to lift them out one or two at a time, and with a glance at the titles on the backs, handing them to wife, son or daughter.

"Cooper's Naval History of the United States! There, that will particularly interest you, Rupert.

"And here are his novels, which mother and Mildred will enjoy. Scott's works also: those for older folks and his 'Tales of a Grandfather' for the children. Two more little books—'Anna Ross,' and 'Ruth Lee.'"

"Oh, they look pretty!" cried Zillah and Ada, peeping into these last.

"'Dunallan' for me! oh how glad I am!" exclaimed Mildred the next instant.

"Here's a bundle," said Mr. Keith, handing it out.

"Remnants, I presume," his wife said laughingly, and opening it found her surmise correct.

Groceries, candies and toys for the children, and some few other miscellaneous articles filled up the rest of this most welcome box.

"Dear old auntie! She shouldn't have wasted so much of her money on us," Mrs. Keith said with tears in her eyes, as she glanced over a note pinned to a dress pattern for herself. "But she says she has enjoyed it intensely, and I know that is so; for giving, especially to us, is her greatest delight."

"Yes, there never was a more generous soul," assented her husband.

"Ah, if we could only do something for her in return!" exclaimed Mildred.

"Yes, indeed! what a feast she has provided us!" cried Rupert, taking a peep here and there into the history. "Mother, can't we begin on them this afternoon?"

"I'm not ready for Mr. Lord," objected Mildred, "and in an hour it will be time to go to him."

That reminded the lad that he, too, had a lesson to prepare, and he left the room to attend to it.

"Wife," said Mr. Keith, "do you know that little Mary Chetwood is seriously ill?"

"No, I did not, I'll put on my bonnet and go over there at once."

"Mother," said Mildred, "I've been thinking it would be nice to lend one of these books to Effie Prescott. I do not know her at all intimately, but Claudina says she is very intelligent and fond of reading, and in such poor health that she is often too miserably weak and ill to do anything but read."

"Certainly! she must have the reading of every book in the house, if she wishes, and will not abuse them."

"Claudina says she is always very careful of those she lends her, and very glad to get them. She's a lovely Christian, too, and very patient under her trials."

"Yes; I have been pleased with the little I have seen of her. I believe I owe Mrs. Prescott a call; so I shall take their house on my way to the squire's and carry a book with me."

Mrs. Keith found Mrs. Prescott out, the invalid girl lying back in a large rocking chair, and Damaris Drybread seated, in her accustomed bolt upright fashion, directly opposite.

At sight of Mrs. Keith, Effie started up in nervous haste and trepidation, to offer her hand and then a chair.

"Never mind, dear child, I will help myself," said the lady, pressing the trembling hand tenderly in hers. "How are you to-day?"

"About as usual, thank you; which is neither very sick nor very well," the girl answered with a faint smile, sinking back again, breathing short and hard.

"Now don't talk so; you look very well," remarked Miss Drybread in a cold, hard tone. "Just make up your mind that there's nothing much the matter, and you're not going to give up to the hypo, and ten to one it won't be long till you find yourself well enough."

Tears sprang to Effie's eyes, for she was both nervous and sensitive to the last degree.

"I know I look well," she said. "I'm not thin, and I have a good color; but it's often brightest when I feel the worst. And I've tried to believe my sickness was all imagination, but I can't; it's too real."

"No, Effie, you do not look well," said Mrs. Keith; "that brilliant bloom hardly belongs to health, and your eyes are heavy, your countenance is distressed."

"Of course she'll wear a distressed countenance as long as she imagines she's sick," observed the schoolma'am severely. "And you, Mrs. Keith, are only making matters worse by talking in that way."

"Not so," said the sick girl, "such kind sympathy does me good. Oh, thank you a thousand times!" as Mrs. Keith put "Dunallan" into her hands. "I shall enjoy it so much, and will be very careful of it, and return it soon. I read it years ago and liked it exceedingly, and it will be new to me now. Grace Kennedy is such a sweet writer; what a pity she died so early!"

"A novel!" sniffed Damaris. "If you are really sick you oughtn't to read anything but the Bible."

"The teachings of this book are so fully in accord with those of the Scriptures, that I can not think it will hurt her," said Mrs. Keith.

"I love the Bible," said Effie, "I never could do without it; its words often come to me when I am sad and suffering and are 'sweeter than honey and the honeycomb,' but reading other good books seems like talking with a Christian friend, and refreshes me in the same way."

At this moment Mrs. Prescott came in and greeting the two callers with a pleasant "Good afternoon," sat down to chat with them.

The talk presently turned upon their gardens, and Mrs. Prescott invited the visitors to walk out and look at hers.

Mrs. Keith accepted the invitation, but Miss Drybread said she would just sit with Effie till they came back.

"Aren't you teaching now, Miss Damaris?" asked the girl, as the others left the room.

"No, I've closed my school for a couple of weeks to do my spring sewing."

"It was kind in you to take time to call to see me when you are always so busy."

"I try to attend to every duty," returned the schoolma'am, with a sanctimonious air "and I felt that I had a duty to perform here. I've been thinking a good deal about you, Effie; trying to find out why your afflictions are sent; and I've concluded that it's as a punishment for your sins, and that when you repent and reform, your health will be better.

"You know Christians (and I really hope you're one; I know you belong to the church) won't have any punishment in the other world; so they have to take it in this, and so, as I said, I've been considering about you, and I think if you thought better of Brother Smith and enjoyed his sermons and prayers and talks in the meetin's, 'twould be better for you.

"He's a good Christian and so you'd ought to like what he says, and be his friend with other folks that isn't inclined to listen to him."

"He may be a Christian; I hope he is," returned Effie, "though it is very difficult for me to realize that a man has much true love to Christ and for souls, when his tone and manner are utterly indifferent and business like (or perhaps that isn't quite the right word; for men generally show some interest in their business).

"Besides it requires other things in addition to conversion to fit a man for teaching; he must have knowledge and the ability to impart it.

"I have nothing against Mr. Smith personally, but he does not instruct me, does not give me any food for thought, or help me on my way to heaven. So I felt it my duty to object to having him become my pastor. But I haven't been going about slandering him, and don't know why you come and talk to me in this way.

"It strikes me, too, that you are the last person to do it—as I have heard you say far harder things of other ministers than ever I've said of him."

An angry flush rose in the sallow cheek of the spinster at that.

"I've tried to do my duty always," she said, bridling. "I've never indulged in any vanities of dress; but that's been one of your sins, Effie Prescott; bows and even flowers and feathers on your bonnets, and knots of bright ribbon at your throat and in your hair. It's sinful and you may depend you'll be afflicted till you'll give up and be consistent in all things."

"I know better than you can tell me, that I deserve all I suffer and a great deal more," said the girl humbly, tears gathering in her eyes; "but for all that I don't believe you are right. You are a Job's comforter, and God reproved those men for talking so to him.

"And don't you remember what Jesus said about trying to take the mote out of your brother's eye while there is a beam in your own?"

"I see its time for me to go," said Damaris, rising.

She stood a moment looking at Effie, her lips compressed, her face white and her eyes ablaze with rage.

"There's no Christian spirit about you," she hissed, "you don't like faithful dealing; you don't want to be told of your sins. Very well, Miss, I wash my hands of you; I shake off the dust of my feet against you."

And with arms folded on her breast and head erect, she stalked out of the house, leaving the invalid girl quivering from head to foot with nervous excitement and distress, crying and laughing hysterically.

"Oh dear! oh dear!" she sighed to herself. "I haven't behaved in a Christian manner; I was angry at what she said."

Mrs. Prescott and Mrs. Keith were strolling in from the garden, chatting pleasantly of their domestic affairs, when an infant's screams were heard coming from a back room.

"There, my baby is awake and calling for his mother," said Mrs. Prescott. "Please excuse me a minute. Just step into the parlor again and talk with Effie."

Mrs. Keith complied and found Effie alone, lying back in her chair, trembling, flushed and tearful.

"My poor child! are you suffering very much?" she asked, bending over her and smoothing her hair with a caressing motion.

"No, ma'am, I'm not worse—only—it was something that Damaris said; and that I didn't take it quite as I ought.

"Oh, Mrs. Keith, do you think God sends sickness to punish us for our sins? and that my health is poor because I'm more wicked than anybody who is well?"

"Certainly not. I have excellent health as a general thing, while many an eminent saint has been a great sufferer.

"We know that sin brought disease and death into the world and that God sometimes sends afflictions as chastisements; but to his own people it is in love and for their growth in grace.

"'As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous therefore and repent.' 'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons.'

"Remembering that, would you wish to escape it?"

"Oh no, no! But oh, it makes the burden so much heavier to think that it is because He is angry with me!"

"It is because he loves you. Do not look at it as punishment, but as discipline; as the cutting and carving which are necessary to bring out the beautiful statue from the shapeless block of marble, or to change the diamond in the rough to the brilliant sparkling gem.

"As to the idea that the Christian bears any part of the penalty of his sins—atoning for them by his own suffering, or his works, or in any other way, either in this life or the next,—it is totally unscriptural. 'For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.'"

"O, thank you, so much, so very much!" she exclaimed, looking up gratefully. "What wonderful love His was, and who would not be willing to bear any suffering to be made like unto Him?"

"That is unquestionably a Christian spirit," said Mrs. Keith; "none but those who have felt the burden of sin and learned to hunger and thirst after righteousness know that ardent desire for conformity to His image."

"You make my heart glad!" cried the girl. "Damaris just told me there was no Christian spirit about me; and I'm often afraid there isn't; yet I do love Jesus and desire His love more than anything else. I want to do and suffer all His holy will!"

Little Mary Chetwood, a sweet child of six, was the only daughter except Claudina, and coming after some half dozen boys, naturally became, from the first, a great pet and darling, made much of by parents, sister and brothers.

Yet she was not a spoiled child; she had been taught obedience, religiously trained, and not indulged to her hurt.

Love and wise indulgence do no harm, but quite the contrary; while harshness, a dearth of affection, and undue severity have ruined many a one for time and eternity.

Mrs. Keith found the Chetwoods a distressed household; for though the little girl had been but two days ill, such was the violence of the attack that it was already apparent that there was small hope of recovery.

"This is kind," whispered Mrs. Chetwood, pressing her friend's hand, while tears coursed down her cheeks. "The darling won't be tended by any body but mother, father or sister, but your very presence is a comfort."

"I should have been here sooner, but did not know of her illness till this afternoon," Mrs. Keith responded in the same subdued key. "If I can be of any use, I will take off my bonnet and stay; it is perfectly convenient."

The offer was gratefully accepted, a note dispatched to Mildred, entrusting the children at home to her care till such time as her mother could be of no more service at the squire's, and Mrs. Keith's gentle ministries in the sick room began.

Her quiet movements, her thoughtfulness, quick comprehension and fertility of resource, made her invaluable at such a time.

The end came sooner than was expected; day was just breaking when, with her head on the bosom of her who gave her birth, the little one gently breathed her last.

In all the trying scenes that followed, Mr. and Mrs. Keith and Mildred were most kind, helpful and sympathizing, and the ties of Christian friendship were thus more closely drawn than ever between the two families.

The bereaved family found their home sadly desolated, but there was no murmuring against the Hand that dealt the blow; the language of their hearts was, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."