CHAPTER VI.LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.
I hadbeen absent from home for several weeks, and after my return, sickness in the family confined me closely, so that I knew little of what had been occurring in the neighborhood. Miss Letty, through whom my information usually came, was seldom seen abroad, to the great surprise and inconvenience of many families who had learned to look upon her frequent visits as an indispensable part of their domestic arrangements.
“What has happened to Miss Letty?” I inquired of Lilian Lester, at a meeting of our Aid Society, as I noticed the look of gravity which seemed strangely out of place on her countenance, usually so cheerful.
“I am not aware of any cause for it,” Lilian replied, “and yet she certainly does look as if she were carrying a weight of care. Dear Miss Letty, I hope nothing has happened to trouble her, for she is so kind and unselfish that she ought to be very happy.”
As I left the house, Miss Letty came up, and proposed to accompany me home, an offer which I gladly accepted, for it was evident that there was something she wished to communicate, and I hoped, by sharing her anxieties, to alleviate them. We walked for a few steps in silence, and then my companion, in an embarrassed tone, very different from her ordinary manner, inquired,
“Mrs. Glenn, have you ever seen Mr. Thurston when he has been here preaching for Mr. Ryder?”
“Mr. Thurston,” I repeated; “is he the home missionary stationed at M——,among the mountains? If so, I have seen him, and heard him preach; but why do you ask that question?”
Strange to say, I had not a suspicion of the state of affairs, notwithstanding the confusion of my companion, for I had never heard of the death of Mr. Thurston’s wife, and therefore was not likely to think of him in connection with Miss Letty.
“Why,” she said, “I only wanted to know whether you had ever seen him, and how you liked him, if you had; for you see he has been over here several times lately, and called on me with Mr. Ryder, and—pshaw, how silly I am—well, he has asked me to marry him.”
Miss Letty actually blushed like a young girl as she made this confession, which took me so utterly by surprise, that for a moment I had not a word to say.
“I see you are astonished at it, and no wonder; I told him that everybody would wonder that he should offer himself to me, a seamstress, and without one cent of money in the world; but he only smiled, and said he wanted a wife for himself, and not to suit the public; that he didn’t want a young girl, nor a rich wife either, to look down on him and his poor people.”
“You are mistaken,” I replied; “it isn’t that which surprised me, but I had never heard that he was a widower; and then the thought of losing you is something so new, and not very pleasant, I assure you. What shall we do without you?”
“I thought of that,” was the reply, for Miss Letty had too much simplicity of character to pretend to be ignorant of her importance in the community, though she was truly humble in her estimate ofherself; “and I told Mr. Thurston I had been here so long, and had got so into the habit of doing every thing for everybody, that I was afraid they’d miss me a good deal. But he said if that was the case, I was just the one for a poor minister, who had to contrive to make ends meet, and that his children needed me more than the folks in Woodbury did. You see he just brushed away all my objections like so many cobwebs, so that I couldn’t say another word.”
“I am glad he seems to appreciate your worth; if we must give you up, it will be a comfort to know that you are happy.”
“Oh, as to that I don’t know; I suppose people at my age haven’t very romantic notions of happiness; I’m sure I haven’t; but if I can do any good to one of the Lord’s servants, I shall be glad. But when I think how much will be expectedof me, I am so frightened I feel like giving it all right up. You see, when I was a child they didn’t care much about education in our town, and though I’ve picked up some ideas here and there going through the world, I don’t know very much. Then I’m plain and homely in my ways, and I’m afraid he’ll be ashamed of me some time when he sees me by the side of other ministers’ wives; but when I told him so he only laughed, and said if that was all my difficulty, he should look on it as settled; so I had to say yes, for he wouldn’t hear to any thing else.”
I said every thing in my power to encourage Miss Letty, for I felt that Mr. Thurston had made a wise choice for himself and his children, and that our little seamstress, with her fund of good sense, energy, and activity, and above all, with her unwavering trust in God, would make a far better wife for a clergyman thanmany an educated and refined woman who was deficient in these qualities, as too many are.
“And how soon are we to lose you?” I inquired; “I trust not immediately; you must give us a little time to become reconciled to the thought of such a change.”
“Mr. Thurston is very anxious that I should go right away; he says he has been alone so long, and his children need me so much; but I told him I must see to the work I had on hand, so as to leave you all comfortable, or I shouldn’t be easy in my mind about going. It’s hard to leave such friends as I have got here, and to go away from dear little Willie’s grave too; but Mr. Ryder seems to think it is my duty to go, because there are so few that would be willing to take such a place. I don’t see how that can be, for I’m sure Mr. Thurston is one of the bestof men, and I think any woman might be happy with him.”
From the earnestness with which this was said, I saw that Miss Letty was really interested in the good minister, and not about to sacrifice herself from a sense of duty merely; and I was glad to believe this, for I feared she might not be as comfortable under her new responsibilities as she had been in Woodbury.
The wedding took place in church; and after an hour or two spent at the parsonage, where the friends of the bride called to offer their congratulations and to bid her good-by, the happy pair left for their mountain home, from whence we have repeatedly heard of the new Mrs. Thurston, as useful and beloved beyond any of her predecessors in that place.
Mrs. Fenton had been for months rapidly failing, and her symptoms were nowsuch as to indicate a speedy release from her sufferings. She was intensely anxious to see her long-absent son once more on earth, and this strong maternal feeling seemed actually to hold back the spirit, already pluming its wings for flight. “I shall not die till I have seen him again,” was her constant reply to the inquiries of her friends. “He will come in time to receive my parting breath, and I am content.”
Stanwood Fenton had never recovered from the wound received at South Mountain, and after months of terrible agony, had recently been obliged to submit to amputation of the hand as the only means of saving his life. He was now recovering slowly, and had been sent to the convalescent camp, when a letter from Elinor informed him of the condition of his mother. In spite of the remonstrances of his physicians he obtained, throughthe influence of Col. Lester, a dismissal from the camp, and started for home under the care of Capt. May, a former member of the Twenty-sixth, and now commander of a company in Col. Lester’s regiment, who had a furlough in consequence of ill health.
Mrs. Fenton had seemed to be in a dying state for several hours, but her frequent inquiries showed us that she still expected the arrival of her son, though no word had reached her of his intention to start for home.
“It is my only earthly care,” she said, “and I think my Father will grant me this request.”
She had been apparently sleeping, and all was perfectly still in and around the house, when suddenly starting and opening her eyes, she exclaimed, “He is coming; I hear the wheels; he is almost here; thank God.”
None of us could hear a sound; but the mother’s ears, quickened by affection, caught the distant rumbling, though the moment before death seemed about to close them for ever. A few moments brought the carriage to the door, and Elinor and Lilian flew to meet and welcome the returning wanderer.
“Is my mother still living?” was his first inquiry; and on receiving an answer in the affirmative, the strength which had sustained him on the way suddenly deserted him. He sank into a chair, and covering his face, gave way for a few moments to the emotions which shook his frame, while Elinor threw her arms around his neck, and wept silently. But Lilian, who knew the anxiety of her dying aunt, said tenderly,
“Dear cousin, this will never do. Think of your mother, whose life is now counted by moments, and who is waitingfor you. All your strength will be needed for this interview, and you must be calm, since agitation might be instantly fatal to her.”
“I know it,” was his reply, “and you shall see me a man again soon; but I have feared the worst all the way home, and the revulsion of feeling overcame me at first. May you never know, dear girls, what it is to have remorse added to the sorrow of such an hour as this.”
The interview between the dying mother and her erring, but penitent son, was witnessed only by members of the family; and at its close, she was so exhausted as to be almost insensible. But the lamp of life burned up brightly once more before going out for ever. She bade us all farewell, with a few tender and appropriate words to each; then turning to her son, who was kneeling at the bedside, with his face buried in the pillows, she said,as she laid her cold hand upon his head, “My dear boy, I once asked for you in my blindness length of days and temporal prosperity. Now I trust I have sought better things of God for you; but you must seek him for yourself, or you will never see his face in peace. With my dying breath I charge you, make it the business of your life to meet me in heaven.”
After a few loving words to her husband, Elinor, and Lilian, with a kind message to Col. Lester, she said, in a voice clear and distinct as in health,
“I wish to give it as my dying testimony to all here present, that not one good thing has ever failed in my experience, of all that the Lord has spoken. The religion of the Bible has been to me an infinite blessing. I have lived on it for years, and it has supported me in suffering and sorrow, and now I am dying in perfect peace; for Jesus is withme, and his rod and staff, they comfort me.”
Her voice died away, but the smile on her countenance was like the dawn of heaven in its brightness; and it may have been the reflection of that radiance, for before her words had ceased to echo in that hushed chamber, the spirit had escaped from its wasted tenement, and was already rejoicing before the throne of God.
Col. Lester came home to see her buried, but stayed only a few days, as active service was soon expected. He was in good health, and seemed very happy, and as Lilian was to return with him to Washington, there was nothing to mar her enjoyment of his brief visit. After their departure, Elinor and her brother were very lonely, and Capt. May, whose leave of absence had been extended, was a frequent visitor at the Tyrrell House, anda great favorite with all its inmates, from Mr. Fenton down to Mammy Venus, and Pete recently promoted to the dignity of coachman.
To know Elinor Fenton intimately was to love her, and the young soldier found, before he had dreamed of danger, that his heart was no longer in his own possession. He could not with propriety make known his feelings to Elinor so soon after her bereavement, but from his friend Stanwood he received all the encouragement which a brother’s best wishes could give; and when he rejoined his regiment, he carried with him a hope which brightened his darkest hours, and made every hardship seem light.
Young Fenton had been at home but a few months before he became a universal favorite, as we discovered the acquisition we had made in his society. He was ardent, impulsive, and generous evento a fault, and possessed the best traits of Southern character, with an ingenuous frankness peculiarly his own. Often led astray by the warmth of his feelings, he was quick to perceive and retract his errors, and eager to make reparation for them. It was impossible to associate with Stanwood Fenton without being constantly reminded of the Saviour’s remark to the young man who came to him, and who awoke so deep an interest in his benevolent heart: “One thing thou lackest.” Deep religious principle was the one thing wanting in his character, the balance-wheel without which his movements were erratic and uncertain, guided rather by the impulse of the moment than by any sense of accountability to God.
His original plan had been to enter the Union army as soon as possible after the death of his mother, but his health hadsuffered greatly from long confinement in the hospital; and the loss of his hand, together with the entreaties of his father and sister, induced him to relinquish the idea, and devote himself to the care of his father’s business, which had suffered from neglect. The light came back to Elinor’s eye, and the bloom to her cheek, as she saw her brother once more in his proper place at home; and though her beloved mother was still fondly remembered and her loss deplored, it was with a chastened sorrow, as she felt that for her to die had been great gain.
Winter, with its storms and sunshine, its triumphs and reverses, wore away at length, and with the first blossoms of May Lilian came back to us, more welcome to our hearts than the breath of spring or the fragrance of forest flowers. She was accompanied by Captain, now Major May, who was on the staff of Gen.Lester, and who eagerly availed himself of an opportunity to revisit the spot where his earthly hopes were centred. During her stay at the head-quarters of her husband, Lilian had learned to appreciate the worth of the youngaide-de-camp, and ardently hoped he might be successful in his suit. Why should I narrate the progress of events? It was the same old story repeated once again, a tale as old as the history of the race, yet new in the experience of every human heart—the story of faithful love meeting its reward at last in the affection of the beloved object. As Elinor heard from her cousin the recital of the gallant exploits of Major May, of his courage and devoted loyalty, she loved him not only “for the perils he had passed,” but for the high principle which had thus far shielded him from the peculiar temptations of a soldier’s life; and before hisdeparture he won from her a promise, that when the war was ended, or his term of service expired, he might claim his reward.
Months have passed, and still the cloud of war overshadows the land, and still our beloved ones are absent from us, some with the heroic Sherman in Northern Georgia, scaling the heights of Kennesaw and Lookout mountains, and driving the eagle from his eyrie, as they plant the stars and stripes among the clouds; some are in the sultry swamps and bayous of Louisiana, exposed to a foe more insidious and deadly than the rebel armies; and others, among whom are our best and bravest, are swelling the ranks which threaten the Confederate capital.
“The time has come when brothers must fightAnd sisters must pray at home.”
“The time has come when brothers must fightAnd sisters must pray at home.”
“The time has come when brothers must fight
And sisters must pray at home.”
But while we look up to Him who alone can send help and deliverance, itis our privilege to labor as well as to pray, and while we wait upon God, to watch for every opportunity of doing whatever our hands find to do in the good cause, with our whole heart.
The heavens are dark above us, and the earth rocks wildly under our feet, but God has a divine purpose underlying all these convulsions, and it is fixed and immutable as his throne. Faith sees in the overturnings around us the majestic march of his providence, preparing a way in the tempest, and making the wrath of man to praise him, while he restrains the remainder thereof.
It is good for us sometimes, when hope deferred makes the heart sick, to go back to first principles, that we may gather strength from a review of our past history and of God’s dealings with us as a nation.
The American republic was unique in its inception and establishment. Thepilgrim band who came to New England in the Mayflower were not a company of commercial adventurers, led hither by the hope of gain; still less were they a party of military freebooters, actuated by the lust of conquest, like the Spaniards, who carried fire and sword among the unoffending inhabitants of Southern America. The principle which led those noble men and women to forsake kindred and home, and to brave the perils of a howling wilderness, and which sustained them amid all their privations and sufferings, was not earthly or perishable. It was the burning, quenchless thirst for religious liberty, the strong determination to worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience, though the roof of their temple were the boundless sky and their altar the rough stones of the forest, that actuated the founders of this republic in their sublime enterprise.
They came to these wilds of nature that they might found a colony and build up a church, and advance the interests of the Redeemer’s kingdom, and serve as stepping-stones to others in the great work of human progress. And never has the divine declaration, “Them that honor me I will honor,” been more signally fulfilled than in the growth of the infant nation thus established. Every step of the way in which, as a people, we have been led, from the landing on Plymouth rock to the proud position which we have hitherto occupied among the nations, has been marked by special interpositions of Providence, no less real, though less miraculous, than the pillar of cloud and flame which guided the ancient Israelites to the land of promise.
But in our prosperity we have forgotten the Rock whence we were hewn, and have rebelled against our father’s God,and refused to obey his commands, until in his righteous indignation he has come out in judgment against us, and left us to our own ways and to eat the fruit of our own devices. As a nation we have deeply sinned. As a nation we are suffering a fearful punishment.
But let not the enemies of liberty in the old world or the new, exult in the belief that the republic is about to be rent in fragments, and the last hope of the oppressed millions of Europe to be for ever entombed. We are bearing the indignation of the Lord because we have sinned against him; but when his purposes concerning us are accomplished, he will arise to execute judgment for us.
No careful observer of God’s providence can doubt that he has reserved America for a grand destiny—that our country has a mission to perform of thesublimest import, and a grand agency to exert in the regeneration of the world.
If we read aright the divine purpose in reference to this nation, and the historical causes here concentrating, we must believe that the vital forces inherent in our government and institutions will, with the blessing of God, master all the antagonisms now threatening their overthrow; and that, having passed through this baptism of blood and fire, we shall emerge cleansed and purified, and stand as a beacon light to the struggling nations of the old world, until suffering humanity everywhere, regenerated and redeemed, shall rejoice in one grand jubilee of liberty, Christianity, and universal brotherhood.