Stepping Heavenward Part 26

"Yes, you do not look strong. But then you never did. And you are as pretty as ever, while I-- oh, Kate! do you remember what round, white arms I used to have? Look at them now!"

And she drew up her sleeve, poor child. Just then I heard a step in the pa.s.sage,. and her husband sauntered into the room, smoking.

"Do go away, Charles,". she said impatiently. "You know how your cigar sets me coughing."

He held out his hand to me with the easy, nonchalant air of one who is accustomed to success and popularity.

I looked at him with an aversion I could not conceal. The few years since we met has changed him so completely that I almost shuddered at the sight of his already bloated face, and at the air that told of a life worse than wasted.

"Do go away, Charles," Amelia repeated.

He threw himself into a chair without paying the least attention to her, and still addressing himself to me again, said:

"Upon my word, you are prettier than ever,

and--

"I will come to see you at another time, Amelia," I said, putting on all the dignity I could condense in my small frame, and rising to take leave.

"Don't go, Katy!" he cried, starting up, "don't go. I want to have a good talk about old times."

Katy, indeed! How dared he? I came away burning with anger and mortification. Is it possible that I ever loved such a man? That to gratify that love I defied and grieved my dear mother through a whole year! Oh, from what hopeless misery G.o.d saved me, when He s.n.a.t.c.hed me out of the depth of my folly!

DECEMBER 1.-Ernest says I can go to see Amelia with safety now, as her. husband has sprained his ankle, and keeps to his own room. So I am going. But, I am sure,. I shall say something imprudent or unwise, and wish I could think it right to stay away. I hope G.o.d will go with me and teach me what words to speak.

DEC. 2.-I found Amelia more unwell than on my first visit, and she received me again with tears.

"How good you are to come so soon," she began. "I did not blame you for running off the other day; Charley's impertinence was shameful.

He said, after you left, that he perceived you had not yet lost your quickness to take offence, but I know he felt that you showed a just displeasure, and nothing more."

"No, I was really angry," I replied. "I find the road to perfection lies up-hill, and I slip back so often that sometimes I despair of ever reaching the top."

"What does the doctor say about me?" she asked. "Does he think me very sick?"

"I dare say he will tell you exactly what he thinks," I returned, "if you ask him. This is his rule with all his patients."

"If I could get rid of this cough I should soon be myself again," she said. "Some days I feel quite bright and well. But if it were not for my poor little children, I should not care much how the thing ended.

With the life Charley leads me, I haven't much to look forward to."

"'You forget that the children's nurse is in the room," I whispered.

"Oh, I don't mind Charlotte. Charlotte knows he neglects me, don't you, Charlotte ?"

Charlotte was discreet enough to pretend not to hear this question, and Amelia went on:

"It began very soon after we were married. He would go round with other girls exactly as he did before; then when I spoke about it he would just laugh in his easy, good-natured way, but pay no attention to my wishes. Then when I grew more in earnest he would say, that as long as he let me alone I ought to let him alone. I thought that when our first baby came that would sober him a little, but be wanted a boy and it turned out to be a girl. And my being unhappy and crying so much, made the poor thing fretful; it kept him awake at night, so he took another room. After that I saw him less than ever, though now and then he would have a little love-fit, when he would promise to be at home more and treat me with more consideration. We had two more little girls-twins; and then a boy. Charley seemed quite fond of him, and did certainly seem improved, though he was still out a great deal with a set of idle young men, smoking, drinking wine, and, I don't know what else. His uncle gave him too much money, and he had nothing to do but to spend it."

"You must not tell me any more now," I said. "'Wait till you are stronger."

The nurse rose and gave her something which seemed to refresh her. I went to look at the little girls, who were all pretty, pale-faced creatures, very quiet and mature in their ways.

"I am rested now," said Amelia, "and it does me good to talk to you, because I can see that you are sorry for me."

"I am, indeed!" I cried.

"When our little boy was three months old I took this terrible cold and began to cough. Charley at first remonstrated with me for coughing so much; he said it was a habit I had got, and that I ought to cure myself of it. Then the baby began to pine and pine, and the more it wasted the more I wasted. And at last it died."

Here the poor child burst out again, and I wiped away her tears as fast as they fell, thankful that she could cry.

"After that," she went on, after awhile, "Charley seemed to lose his last particle of affection for me; he kept away more than ever, and once when I besought him not to neglect me and my children so, he said he was well paid for not keeping up his engagement with you, that you had some strength of character, and-"

"Amelia," I interrupted, "do not repeat such things. They only pain and mortify me."

"Well," she sighed, wearily, "this is what he has at last brought me to. I am sick and broken-hearted, and care very little what becomes of me."

There was a long silence. I wanted to ask her if, when earthly refuge failed her, she could not find shelter in the love of Christ. But I have what is, I fear, a morbid terror of seeking the confidence of others. I knelt down at last, and kissed the poor faded face.

"Yes, I knew you would feel for me," she said. "The only pleasant thought I had when Charley insisted on coming here to live was, that I should see you."

"Does your uncle live here, too?" I asked.

"Yes, he came first, and it was that that put it into Charley's head to come. He is very kind to me."

"Yes," I said, "and G.o.d is kind, too, isn't He ?"

"Kind to let me get sick and disgust Charley? Now, Katy, how can you talk so?" I replied by repeating two lines from a hymn of which I am very fond:

O Saviour, whose mercy severe in its kindness, Hath chastened my wanderings, and guided my way."'

"I don't much care for hymns," she said. "When one is well, and everything goes quite to one's mind, it is nice to go to church and sing with the rest of them. But, sick as I am, it isn't so easy to be religious."

"But isn't this the very time to look to Christ for comfort?"

"What's the use of looking anywhere for comfort?" she said, peevishly. "Wait till you are sick and heart-broken yourself, and you'll see that you won't feel much like doing anything but just groan and cry your life out."

"I have been sick, and I know what sorrow means, I said. "And I am glad that I do. For I have learned Christ in that school, and I know that He can comfort when no one else can."

"You always were an odd creature," she replied. "I never pretended to understand half you said."

I saw that she was tired, and came away. Oh, how I wished that I had been able to make Christ look to her as He did to me all the way home.

DEC. 24.-Father says he does not like Dr. Cabot's preaching. He thinks that it is not doctrinal enough, and that he does not preach enough to sinners. But I can see that it has influenced him already, and that he is beginning to think of G.o.d, as manifested in Christ, far more than he used to do. With me he has endless discussions on his and my favorite subjects, and though I can never tell along what path I walked to reach a certain conclusion, the earnestness of my convictions does impress him strangely. I am sure there is a great deal of conceit mixed up with all I say, and then when I compare my life with my own standard of duty, I wonder I ever dare to open my mouth and undertake to help others.

Baby is not at all well. To see a little frail, tender thing really suffering, tears my soul to pieces. I think it would distress me less to give her to G.o.d just as she is now, a vital part of my very heart, than to see her live a mere invalid life. But I try to feel, as I know I say, Thy will be done! Little Ernest is the very picture of health and beauty. He has vitality enough for two children He and his little sister will make very interesting contrasts as they grow older. His ardor and vivacity will rouse her, and her gentleness will soften him.

JAN. 1, 1841.-Every day brings its own duty and its own discipline.

How is it that I make such slow progress while this is the case? It is a marvel to me why G.o.d allows characters like mine to defile His church. I can only account for it with the thought that if I ever am perfected, I shall be a great honor to His name, for surely worse material for building up a temple of the Holy Ghost was never gathered together before. The time may come when those who know me now, crude, childish, incomplete, will look upon me with amazement, saying, "What hath G.o.d wrought!" If I knew such a time would never come, I should want to flee into the holes and caves of the earth.