CHAPTER XIV.
"Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy, and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp or perish, And in itself to ashes burn." --_Longfellow._
"Molly, how you do work! a great deal too hard, I am sure," said theyounger Elsie, coming into her cousin's room, to find her at her writingdesk, pen in hand, as usual, an unfinished manuscript before her, andbooks and papers scattered about.
Molly looked up with a forced smile: she was not in mirthful mood.
"It is because I am so slow that I must keep at it or I get nothingdone."
"Well, there's no need," said Elsie, "and really, Molly dear, I dobelieve you would gain time by resting more and oftener than you do. Whocan work fast and well when brain and body are both weary? I have cometo ask if you will take a drive with our two grandpas, grandma and Mrs.Carrington?"
"Thank you kindly, but I can't spare the time to-day."
"But don't you think you ought? Your health is of more importance thanthat manuscript. I am sure, Molly, you need the rest. I have noticedthat you are growing thin and pale of late, and look tired almost allthe time."
"I was out for an hour this morning."
"An hour! and the weather is so delightful, everything out of doorslooking so lovely, that the rest of us find it next to impossible tocontent ourselves within doors for an hour. Some of us are going to playcroquet. If you will not drive, won't you let one of the servants wheelyou out there--near enough to enable you to watch the game?"
"Please don't think me ungracious," Molly answered, coloring, "but Ireally should prefer to stay here and work."
"I think Aunt Enna is going with us, and you will be left quite alone,unless you will let me stay, or send a servant to sit with you," Elsiesuggested.
But Molly insisted that she would rather be alone. "And you know," sheadded, pointing to a silver hand bell on the table before her, "I canring if I need anything."
So Elsie went rather sadly away, more than half suspecting that Mollywas grieving over her inability to move about as others did, and takepart in the active sports they found so enjoyable and healthful.
And indeed she had hardly closed the door between them when the tearsbegan to roll down Molly's cheeks. She wiped them away and tried to goon with her work; but they came faster and faster, till throwing downher pen she hid her face in her hands, and burst into passionateweeping, sobs shaking her whole frame.
A longing so intense had come over her to leave that chair, to walk, torun, to leap and dance, as she had delighted to do in the old daysbefore that terrible fall. She wanted to wander over the velvety lawnbeneath her windows, to pluck for herself the many-hued, sweet-scentedflowers, growing here and there in the grass. Kind hands were alwaysready to gather and bring them to her, but it was not like walking aboutamong them, stooping down and plucking them with her own fingers.
Oh to feel her feet under her and wander at her own sweet will about thebeautiful grounds, over the hills and through the woods! Oh to feel thatshe was a fit mate for some one who might some day love and cherish heras Mr. Travilla had loved and cherished her whom he so fondly called his"little wife!"
She pitied her cousin for her sad bereavement; her heart had often,often bled for her because of her loss; but ah! it were "better to haveloved and lost, than never to have loved at all."
Never to love, never to be loved, that was the hardest part of it all.
There was Dick, to be sure, the dear fellow! how she did love him! andshe believed he loved her almost as well; but the time would come whenanother would have the first place in his heart; perhaps it had alreadycome.
Her mother's affection was something, but it was the love of a strongernature than her own that she craved, a staff to lean upon, a guiding,protecting love, a support such as is the strong, stately oak to thedelicate, clinging vine.
There were times when she keenly enjoyed her independence, perfectliberty to control her own actions and choose her own work; her abilityto earn a livelihood for herself; but at this moment all that was asnothing.
Usually she was submissive under her affliction; now her heart rebelledfiercely against it. She called it a hard and cruel fate, to which shecould not, would not be resigned.
She was frightened at herself as she felt that she was so rebellious,and that she was envying the happiness of the cousins who had for yearstreated her with unvarying kindness; that her lot seemed the harder bycontrast with theirs.
And yet how well she knew that theirs was not perfect happiness--thatthe death of the husband and father had been a sore trial to them all.
Through the open window she saw the handsome, easy-rolling familycarriage drive away and disappear among the trees on the farther side ofthe lawn; then the croquet party setting out for the scene of theirproposed game, which was at some little distance from the mansion,though within the grounds.
She noticed that Isa and Mr. Keith walked first--very close together,and looking very like a pair of lovers, she thought--then Mr. Emburywith Violet's graceful, girlish figure by his side, she walking with afree, springing step that once poor Molly might have emulated, as shecalled to mind with a bitter groan and an almost frantic effort to risefrom her chair.
Ah, what was it that so sharpened the sting brought by the thought ofher own impotence, as she saw Vi's bright, beautiful face uplifted tothat of her companion? A sudden glimpse into her own heart sent acrimson tide all over the poor girl's face.
"O Molly Percival, what a fool you are!" she exclaimed half aloud, thenburst into hysterical weeping; but calming herself almost instantly."No, I will not, will _not_ be so weak!" she said, turning resolutelyfrom the window. "I have been happy in my work, happy and content, andso will I be again. No foolish impossible dreams for you, MollyPercival! no dog in the manger feelings either; you shall not indulgethem."
But the thread of thought was broken and lost, and she tried in vain torecover it; a distant hum of blithe voices came now and again to her earwith disturbing influence.
She could not rise and go away from it.
Again the pen was laid aside, and lying back in her chair with her headagainst its cushions, she closed her eyes with a weary sigh, a teartrickling slowly down her cheek.
"I cannot work," she murmured. "Ah, if I could only stop thinking thesemiserable, wicked thoughts!"
Mrs. Travilla, returning from a visit to the quarter, stopped a momentto watch the croquet players.
"Where is Molly?" she asked of her eldest daughter; "did she go withyour grandpa and the others?"
"No, mamma, she is in her room, hard at work as usual, poor thing!"
"She is altogether too devoted to her work; she ought to be out enjoyingthis delicious weather. Surely you did not neglect to invite her to joinyou here, Elsie?"
"No, mamma, I did my best to persuade her. I can hardly bear to thinkshe is shut up there alone, while all the rest of us are having sopleasant an afternoon."
"It is too bad," Mr. Embury remarked, "and I was strongly tempted toventure into her sanctum and try my powers of persuasion; but refrainedlest I should but disturb the flow of thought and get myself intodisgrace without accomplishing my end. Have you the courage to attemptthe thing, Mrs. Travilla?"
"I think I must try," she answered, with a smile, as she turned away inthe direction of the house.
She found Molly at work, busied over a translation for which she hadlaid aside the unfinished story interrupted by the younger Elsie'svisit.
She welcomed her cousin with a smile, but not a very bright or mirthfulone, and traces of tears about her eyes were very evident.
"My dear child," Elsie said, in tones as tender and compassionate as shewould have used to one of her own darlings, and laying her handaffectionately on the young girl's shoulder, "I do not like to see youso hard at work while every one else is out enjoying this delightfulweather. How can you resist the call of all the bloom and beauty you cansee from your wind
ow there?"
"It is attractive, cousin," Molly answered; "I could not resist itif--if I could run about as others do," she added, with a tremble in hervoice.
"My poor, poor child!" Elsie said with emotion, bending down to press akiss on the girl's forehead.
Molly threw her arms about her, and burst into tears and sobs.
"Oh it is so hard, so hard! so cruel that I must sit here a helplesscripple all my days! How can I bear it, for years and years, it maybe!"
"Dear child, 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' Let us liveone day at a time, leaving the future with our heavenly Father, trustingin His promise that as our day our strength shall be. Rutherford says,'These many days I have had no morrow at all.' If it were so with all ofus, how the burdens would be lightened! for a very large part of them isapprehension for the future. Is it not?"
"Yes, and I am ashamed of my weakness and cowardice."
"Dear child, I have often admired your strength and courage under atrial I fear I should not bear half so well."
Molly lifted to her cousin's a face full of wonder, surprise andgratitude; then it clouded again and tears trembled in her eyes and inher voice, as she said, "But, Cousin Elsie, you must let me work; it ismy life, my happiness; the only kind I can ever hope for, ever have.Others may busy themselves with household cares, may fill their heartswith the sweet loves of kind husbands and dear little children; butthese things are not for me. O cousin, forgive me!" she cried, as shesaw the pained look in Elsie's face. "I did not mean--I did notintend--"
"To remind me of the past," Elsie whispered, struggling with her tears."It is full of sweet memories, that I would not be without for anything.Oh true indeed is it that
'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all."
"O Cousin Elsie, your faith and patience are beautiful!" cried Molly,impulsively. "You never murmur at your cross, you are satisfied with allGod sends. I wish it were so with me, but--O cousin, cousin, my veryworst trouble is that I am afraid I am not a Christian! that I have beendeceiving myself all these years!" she ended with a burst of bitterweeping.
"Molly dear," Elsie said, folding her in her arms and striving to sootheher with caresses, "you surprise me very much, for I have long seen thelovely fruit of the Spirit in your life and conversation. Do you notlove Jesus and trust in him alone for salvation?"
"I thought I did, and oh I cannot bear to think of not belonging to him!it breaks my heart!"
"Then why should you think so?"
"Because I find so much of evil in myself. If you knew the rebelliousthoughts and feelings I have had this very day you would not think me aChristian. I have hated myself because of them."
"You have struggled to cast them out, you have not encouraged or lovedthem. Is that what they do who have no love to Christ? no desire afterconformity to his will? It is the child of God who hates sin andstruggles against it. But it is not necessary to decide whether youhave or have not been mistaken in your past experience, since you maycome to Jesus now just as if you had never come before: give yourself tohim and accept his offered salvation without stopping to ask whether itis for the first or the ten thousandth time. Oh that is always mycomfort when assailed by doubts and fears! 'Behold, now is the acceptedtime; behold, now is the day of salvation.' Jesus says, to-day and everyday, 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I willgive you rest.' 'Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.'"
Glad tears glistened in Molly's eyes. "And he will pardon my iniquitythough it is so great," she murmured, with trembling lip and halfaverted face: "he will forgive all my transgressions and my sins,cleanse me from them and love me freely."
"Yes, dear child, he will. And now put away your work for the rest ofthis day and come out into the pure, sweet air. If we weary our poor,weak bodies too much, Satan is but too ready to take advantage of ourphysical condition to assault us with temptations, doubts and fears."
"I will do as you think best, cousin," was the submissive reply.
Elsie at once summoned a servant, and in a few moments Molly's chair wasrolling along the gravelled walks, underneath the grand old trees, agentle breeze from the lakelet, laden with the scent of magnolias andorange blossoms, gathered in its passage across the lawn, softly fanningher cheek, her cousin walking by her side and entertaining her withpleasant chat.
Rosie and Walter came running to meet them. They were glad to see Mollyout: they filled her lap with flowers and her ears with their sweetinnocent prattle, her heart growing lighter as she listened and drank inbeside all the sweet sights and scents and sounds of nature in her mostbountiful mood.
They made a partial circuit of the grounds that at last brought them tothe croquet players, who, one and all, greeted Molly's arrival withexpressions of satisfaction or delight.
Each brought an offering of bud or blossom, the loveliest and sweetestof flowers were scattered so profusely on every hand.
Mr. Embury's was a half blown rose, and Elsie, furtively watching hercharge, noted the quick blush with which it was received, the care withwhich it was stealthily treasured afterward.
A suspicion stirred in her breast, a fear that made her heart trembleand ache for the poor girl.
Mr. Embury spent the evening at Viamede. Molly was in the parlor withthe rest, and the greater part of the time he was close at her side.
Both talked more than usual, often addressing each other, and seemed tooutdo themselves in sparkling wit and brilliant repartee.
Molly's cheeks glowed and her eyes shone: she had never been so handsomeor fascinating before, and Mr. Embury hung upon her words.
Elsie's heart sank as she saw it all. "My poor child!" she sighed toherself. "I must warn him that her affections are not to be trifledwith. He may think her sad affliction is her shield--raising a barrierthat she herself must know to be impassable--but when was heartcontrolled by reason?"
The next morning Enna, putting her head in at the door of thedressing-room where her niece was busy with her little ones, said:"Elsie, I wish you'd come and speak a word to Molly. She'll hear reasonfrom you, maybe, though she thinks I haven't sense enough to give herany advice."
"What is it?" Elsie asked, obeying the summons at once, leaving Rosieand Walter in Aunt Chloe's charge.
"Just come to her room, won't you?" Enna said, leading the way. "I don'tsee what possesses the child to act so. He's handsome and rich andeverything a reasonable woman could ask. I want you to--But there! he'sgone, and it's too late!"
Elsie following her glance through a window they were passing, saw Mr.Embury's carriage driving away.
"Did he ask Molly to go with him?" she inquired.
"Yes, and she wouldn't do it; though I did all I could to make her. Comeand speak to her though, so she'll know better next time."
Molly sat in an attitude of dejection, her face hidden in her hands, anddid not seem conscious of their entrance until Elsie's hand was softlylaid on her shoulder, while the pitying voice asked, "What is thematter, Molly dear?"
Then the bowed head was lifted, and Elsie saw that her eyes were full oftears, her cheeks wet with them.
"Oh, Cousin Elsie," she sobbed, "don't ask me to go with him. I mustnot. I must try to keep away from him. Oh, why did we ever meet? Shall Iever be rid of this weary pain in my heart?"
"Yes, dear child, it will pass away in time," her cousin whispered,putting kind arms about her. "He must stay away, and you will learn tobe happy again in your work, and, better still, in the one love that cannever fail you in this world or the next."
"He is a good man, don't blame him," murmured the poor girl, hiding herblushing face on her cousin's shoulder.
"I will try not; but such selfish thoughtlessness is almostunpardonable. He must not come here any more."
"No, no: don't tell him that! don't let him suspect that I--carewhether he does or not. And he enjoys it so much, he is so lonely in hisown house."
"Do not fear that I will betray you, poor, de
ar, unselfish child," Elsiesaid; "but I must protect you somehow. And, Molly dear, though I believemarried life is the happiest, where there is deep, true love, founded onrespect and perfect confidence, I am quite sure that it is possible fora woman to be very happy though she live single all her days. There ismy dear old Aunt Wealthy, for example; she must be now nearly ninety. Ihave known her for more than twenty years, and always as one of thecheeriest and happiest people I ever saw."
"Did she ever meet any one she cared for?" Molly asked, still hiding herface.
"Yes: she had a sore disappointment in her young days, as she told meherself; but the wound healed in time."
Enna had seated herself in a low rocking-chair by a window, and withhands folded in her lap was keenly eying her daughter and niece.
"What are you two saying to each other?" she demanded. "You talk so lowI can only catch a word now and then; but I don't believe, Elsie, thatyou are coaxing Molly to behave as I want her to."
"Poor mother!" sighed Molly; "she can't understand it."
Elsie's Widowhood Page 14