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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-05-06, Page 22 THE HURON SIGNAL, Y a MAY 6r 1881. A LIFE FOR A LIFE. I have said m ,Noah —it Is end me to sires s myself on My loos, flue letter is pea ell a *7 mbadfi kemitatee %mai ser 1 kn. ow M 1 1' olie A' t yoe her s d •� melvillys, ir' ,se sorrow I h.:. fully obi .ht4. Iter lo 04ler ultimate recovery, ss set his loos them, or hemp them well bodily, I have little doubt; she espsRsk the ns gltborhood. They mend has in her the foundations of ell ender- leave- it is essential fur your sister that sane- -a true, upright nature and • re- they should; but the old woman is very ligious mind. The first blow over, a poor. Du not have them driven away in certain little girl whom 1 know will be such a manner ea will place no alters - to her a saving angel; as aha has been te ative between sin and starvation. Be - others I could name. Fear not there- fore—"Fear Cod, and have no other fest:" You will bring your sister safe to land. But, you are aware, Penelope is not the only person who has been ship- wrecked. I ahuuld not intrude this side of the subject at present, did I not feel it to be some degree of duty, and one that, from certain information that hu reached me, will not bear deferring. The more w because my occupation here ties my hands so much. You and I du not live for ourselves, you know—nor indeed wholly for one another. I want you to help me, Theodora In my last I informed you how the story of Lydia Cartwright came to my knowledge, and how, beside her father's coffin, I was entreated by her old mother to find her out and bring her home if possible. I had then no idea who the "gentleman" was, but afterward was led to suspect it might be a friend of Mr. Charteris. To assure myself, I one day put some questions to him—point-blank, I believe, for I abhor diplomacy, nor had I any suspicion of him personally. In the answer, he gave me a point-blank and insulting denial of any knowledge on the subject. When the whole truth cane out, I was in doubt what to do consistent with my promise to the poor girl's mother. Finally, I made inquiries; but heard ever do that while I have you. that the Kensington cottage had been Max, kiss me—in thought, I mean—as I sold up, and the inmates removed. friends kiss friends who are starting on a i then got the address of Sarah Enfield— lung and painful journey, of which they I that is, I commissioned my old friend, see no end, yet are nut afraid. Nor am Mrs. Ansdell, to get it, and sent it to I. Good -by, my Max. I Mrs. Cartwright, without either advice or explanation, except that it was that of Yours, only and always faxo[,uea JOH bTux. a person who knew Lydia. Are you aware that Lydia has more than once -- i written to her mother, sometimes en - CHAPTER XXXI. • I closing money, saying she was well and Rt+ sToitY. - happy, but nothing more 1 o MY D61R Tgz000aA.—You will have I this morning heard that the old lady ! so I will not repeat them lora received m letters regularly,nor am 1 Yet it will be a change of thought y woman, immediately on receiving my from your sister's sick -room for you te much surprised that they have not been I letter, shut up her cottage, leaving the key with a neighbor, and disappeared. think of me in mine— not a sick -roma But she may come back, and not alone; though, thank God ' This is •seat I hope, most earnestly, it will not be healthy region: the sea wind sweeps alone. And therefore I write, partly to round the • prison walls and shahs the for this chance, that you roses in the governor's garden till one prepare youy can hardly believe it is sn dreary • place were the Duke of Northumberland. may contrive to keep your sister from any unnecessary pain, and also from inside. Dreary enough sometimes to No. Max: those are not these sort of make one believe in that reformer who thongs that give me toward you the feel- I asked, did she thank It was not t another reason. offered to convert same depraved region ing of "gratitude," it is the goodness, "I think nothing about nothing. 1 Y ou may not know it—and it is a hard into a perfect Utopia provided the male the thoughtfulness, the tender love and want to smother thought. Child, •sari above the age of fourteen were all sum- care. I don't mean to insult your sex you talk a littler r k stay, read me some moray hanged. by saying no man ever loved like you, of Dr. Urquhart's letters; they are not Do you smile, my love, at this oc,m- bet few men love in that special way love -letters, so you can have no ubjec- pliment to your sex at the expense of which alone could have satisfied a rest- tion." mine 1 Yet l see wretches here who I hens, irritable girl like me, who finds in It went hard, Max, indef..)it did ! till you perfect trust and perfect rest. If not allowed to be grateful on my own account, I may be in behalf of my sister Penelope. After thus lung following out your orders, medical and mental, I begin to notice a slight change in Penelope. She no longer lies in bed late, on the plea that it shortens theday, nor isshe so diffi- cult to persuade in going out. Farther than the garden she will not stir, but there I get her to creep up and down for a little while daily. Lately she has be- gun to notice her flowers, especially a white moss -rose which she took great pride in. and which never flowered until this summer. Yesterday i1a first bud opened; she stopped and examined it. "Somebody has been mindful of this; who was it 1" I said, the gardener and myself to- gether. "Thank you." She called John, showed him what • good bloom it was, and consulted how they should manses to get the plant to flower again next year. She can then Inok forward to "next year.- You ear."You my that, as "while there is life there is hope," with the body, so, while one ray of hope is discernible, the soul is alive. To save souls alive, that is your special sapling. it semis as if you yourself had been led through deep waters of despair in order that you might personally understand hew those feel who are drowning, and therefore knew best how W help them. And lately jou have in this way dome inure than you know of Shall 1 tell you i You will them standing, tailing and laughing to not be displeased. gather, a very picture of youth and for- Max, hitherto nobody but 1 has sees tune and handsome looks; a picture s line of your letter, 1 'sold not bear suited te the place, with its grand en- it i am as jealous over theme as any ewers' trees branched down to the old miser; it has vexed me even to see groued; its green slopes, and its herds of a stray hand Angering there before they deer r••eing about- while the turrets of reach mine; yet this week I actually the magnificent house which they call rod cwt ked two pages of one of them "home" shone whitely in the distance. to Penekops. This was how it man You see i am taking a leaf nut of your about book. growing poeheal .nd .teaeeiotive v wee •is•Ove r•v a1IAP'ri IX n s$ BMW. I made se answer; I only covered lisp riser, kigsd her, and lett her, kaooittt that w for ansae I did not lime bar either forsaken or alone. And now I mast leave you, tow, Max, being very weary in body, though m7 mind is comfortable and refreshed—ay, ever since I began this letter. So maze.- of an•;of your good words have come back to me while 1 wrote—words which you have let fall at odd times, long ago-, even when we were ecquaintanoea toe did not think 1 should remember them Y 1 do, every one. This is is a great blow, no doubt. The hand of Pr,vieuce has been heavy upon w and our house lately. But 1 think we shall be able to bear it. One always has courage to bear a sorrow which shows its naked face, free from suspense or concealment; stands visibly in the midst of the home, and has to be met and lived down patiently by every member therein. You once said that we often live to see the reason of affliction; how all the events of life hang so wonderfully to- gether, that afterward we can frequently trace the chain of events, and see in humble faith and awe that out of each one has been evolved the other, and that everything, bad and good, must necess- arily have happened exactly as it did. Thus I begin to see—you will not be hurt, Max 1—how well it was, on some accounts, that we were nut married —taut I should still be living at home with my sister; and that, after all she knows, and she only, of what hu happened to me this year, she cannot re- ject any comfort I may he able to offer her on the ground that I myself know nothing of sorrow. As for me personally, do not fear; I have you. Y o1u once feared that a great anguish would break my heart, but it did not. Nothing in this world will fen who &Bo, from the over erre*, d goek- rN0 may have beta Y slip • bode , and so gat, ansae( 1 dill nut 7 els aria bat this • ' metre* to 1y daily life made the impression particularly strong You need have no anxiety for your youngest easter she looked in ORowIletit hill► and spirits. The We sad tants nil seem to have aflseted heti lihe dewed, "8he wee glad it was ore, site smear liked Frauds %reek. Penelrps must come to Takers, Cust% k, ray e, wad no doehd she would epos make • far better marriage." Her ►ennead said. "He and his father had been both grieved and annoyed—indeed, Sir William had quite disowned his nephew—such ungentlemanly conduct was a disgrace to the family." And then Traherne spoke about his own hap. pinem—how his father and Lady Aug- usta perfectly adored his wife, and how the hope and pride of the family were centred in her, with more to the same purport. Truly this young couple have their cup brimming over with life and its joys. My love, good -by; which means enly "God be with thee !" nor in any way implies "farewell." Write won. Your words are, as the Good Book expresses it, "sweeter than honey and the honey- comb" to me unworthy. Max UaquaaaT. I should add, though you would al- most take it for granted, that, in all you do concerning Mrs. Cartwright or her daughter, I wish yov to do nothing without your father's knowledge and consent. rill; 40614 sides, there is the child—how a man can ever desert his own child !—but I will not enter into that part of the subject. This is • strange "love" letter; but I write it without hesitation—my love will understand. You will like to hear something of me; but there is little to tell The life of a jail surgeon is not unlike that of a horse in a mill; and, for some things, nearly as hopeless; beat fitted, .perhaps, fur the old and the blind. I have to shut my eyes to so 'much that I cannot remedy, and take patiently w much to fight against which would be like knocking down the Pyramids of Egypt with one's head as a battering-ram, that sometimes my courage fails. This great prison is, you know, a model of its kind, on the solitary, san- itary and moral improvement system; excellent, no doubt, compared with that which proceeded it. The prisoners are numerous, and as soon as many of these get out they take the greatest pains to get in again; such are the comforts of jail life contrasted with that outside. Yet they seem to me often like a herd of beasts, fed and stalled by rule in the manner best to preserve their health, and keep them from injuring their neigh- bors; their bodies well looked after, but their souls—they might scarcely have h siesp. I W been very miserable thmd aoeoiwg--toed math in several ways, and I took out your letter to own - kat tris 1t cull me of e, tyey� to Vhiith w►7 dtdrel ems t oney is 11,110 welt, n , yet are ale* i,. int ilei mad sender over trine. 1 amid to Say. if , , "ben gel M to r' and two cargo te. mina midi • great spIl sk spa the g>Mtea blocs 1 sat •ware. Veep lsolielt, you know, trot 1 could nut help it. And, wiping my eyes, I saw Penelope's wide open, watching mO "Has Dr. Urquhart been writing any - blabsd mea. a etaner a, hwea, voskI be teufulif wore itis save cruelty against e. q Therefore, whedktr or not kir lure for billion s diad out, I not kelp thinking OM upset be Una when Penelope =ogles anything for tidings of Chms•terte 1 wish you would iasl,tast wbathee he has lett England, awl fast perhaps in some way or other 1 Yap let Penelope understAud that lie is sale away—possibly te begin a new mad better life, is $ new world. A new rod better life. This phrase - Penelope aught call it aur "cant," yet thing to wound 'you 1" and she, slowly I what se solemnly believe in is surely and bitterly. not snot --brags we to aoutethiug I Lave I eagerly disclaimed 1515, to tell you this week. For some reasons lit Le til Y" 1 ant glad it did not oocar until this week, "Oh no, thank Cud that I might have time fur consideration. "Why theft were you crying ?" 115x, it }ou remember, when you Why, indeed 1 But what could I say, made to run that request about Lydia except the truth, that they were not Cartwright, I merely answered "that I tears of. pain, but because you were so would endeavor ho du u you wished," as good and 1 was so proud of you! I for- indeed, 1 always would, feeling that nig got what arrows these words must have duty tt, you, ,von n tht maile"nbe- been into my sister's head,. No wonder diener," has alrea.ily begun.r .. If mean she spoke as she did—spoke out fiercely, to obey, you see, but would rather du it and yet with a certain solemnity- with my heart, an well as my conscience. "Dora Johnston, you will reap what So, hattlly knowing what to say to you, you sow, and 1 shall not pity }sou. I just said this. end uu more. Make to your+elf an idol, and God will 3fy lift Lea been so still, so safely strike it down. 'Thou shalt have none shut up from the outaide world, that other gods but me.' Remember who there are many subjects I have never says that and tremble." even thought about, and this was one. I should have trembled, Max, had I After the first great shock concerning not remembered. I said to my sister Francis, I put it aside, hoping to forget as gently as I could, '`that I made no it. When you revived it, I wits at first idols; that I knew all your faults, and startled; then I tried to launder over it you mine, and we loved one another in carefully. so as to come to right judg- spite of them, but we did not worship • ment and be enabled to act in every way one another—only God. That, if it as became not only myself, Theodore were His will we should part, I believed Johnston, but—let me not be ashamed we could part. And--" here I could to say it—Theodora, Max Unpuhart's not say any more for tears. wife. Penelope looked sorry. By-and-by all became clear to me. My "I remember you preaching that doc- dear Max, I do not hesitate; I am not- trine ottrine once, child, but—" she started , afraid. I have been only waiting op - up violently. Can't you give nie some- pnrtunity, which at length came. thing to amuse met Read me bit of List t-und,ty I ,.vert:eard my class— that—that nonsense. Of all amusing Pcliielope's that was, you know—whis- things in this world, there is nothing periug something among themselves, and like a love -letter. But don't believe trying to hide it fruit Inc. When I put them, Dura"—she groped my hand hard ( the question direct, the answer was: —"there are every one of them lies. "Please, Mies, Mrs. Cartwright and I said that I could not judge, never Lydia have come house." having received a "love -letter" in all my I felt myself grow hot as fire—I do life, and hoped earnestly I never might: now in telling you. Only it must be "No love -letters t What does he borne- it must be told. write to you about, then r'. Also ail .tht•r thing, which one of the I told her in a general way. I would .bigger girls Int out, with many titters, not see herhalf-eatirioal, half-mcr.dnkous and never a 1 lush, they hail brought it smile. It did not last very long Soon. child with them. though she turned away and shut her Oh, JLax, tl.e honor of shame and eyes, I felt sure she waa both listening repulsion, and theta the perfect anguish and thinking. of pity that taupe .fiver me ' These girls "Dr. Urquhart cannot have an easy or ; of our parish- Lydia was one of them; pleasant life," she observed, "bot he if they had been taught better; if 1 had does not deserve it. No man does.- tried to teach them, instead of all these "Or woman either, said I. as zently years studying or dreaming, thinking as I could.wholly of myself and caring not a straw Penelope bade me hold nig tonr;ue: about my fellow -creatures. 05, Max, preaching was my father business, not would that my life had loon more like mine, that is, if reasoning were of any yours avail. it shall be henceforth. Going home thn,uga the village, with the sun shin- ing . n the cottages, of whose inmates I know tis, more than of the New Zealand sara_ea-- on the group of ragged girls who were growing up at our very door, no one knew. how, and no one cares -- made a vow to myself. I that have been so blessed—I that am so happy—yes, I considered—perhaps, to hoar of people Max, happy ! I will work with all nn more miserable than herself, more wicked strength while it is day. You will help than Francis, might not do hann but me. And you will never love me the gond to my poor Penelope. less for anything I furl --or do. So I was brave enough to take out myI was going that very. afternoon to letter and read from it 'with reservations now and then, of course, about your daily work and the people conc3rned therein; all that interests rete so much, and makes me feel happier and prouder than any mere "love letter" written to or about myself. Penelope was inter - CHAPTER XXXII. RIR STORY. Another bright, dazzlingly bright, summer morning, on which I begin writing to my dear Max. This seems the longest -lasting, loveliest summer I ever knew outside the house. Within all goes on much in the same way, which you know. My moon are all growing purple, Max; I never remember the heather so rich and abundant; I wish you could see it. Sometimes I want you so ! If any ! They are simply Nos 1, 2, 3, and you had given me up, or were to do so so on, with nothing of human individual- now from hopelesanesa, pride, or any ity, or responsibility about them. Even other reason, what would become of met their faces grow to the same pattern, Max, hold me fast. DO not let me dull, fat, clean, and stolid. During the go. exercising hour 1 sometimes stand and You never do. I can see how you watch them, each pacing his amall carry me in your heart continually, and bricked circle, and rarely catch one how you are forever considering how countenance which has a ray of ex- you can help me and mine, and if it pression or intelligence. were not become so natural to feel this, Good as many of its results are, I so sweet to depend upon you and accept have my doubts as to this solitary syn- everything from you without even say- tem; aytem; but they are expressed on paper is ing "thank you," I might begin to ex - the MS. you asked for, my kind little press "gratitude," but the word would make you smile. I amused yo.0 once, I remember, by an indignant disclaimer of obligations between such as ourselves, how every- thing given and received ought to be tree as air, and how you ought to take me as readily if I were heiress tc ten thousand a year, as I would you if you answered. I have heard, from time to time, in other ways, all particulars of your sister's illness and of you. Mrs. Granton says you keep up well, but I know that, could I see it now, it would be the same little pale face which used to come stealing to me from your father's bedside last year. If I ask you to write, my love, believe it is from no doubt of you, or jealousy of any of your home -duties, but because I am wearying for a sight of your hand- writing, and an assurance from yourself that you are not failing in health, the only thing in which 1 hare any fear of your failing. To answer a passage in yourlaat,which i have hitherto let be, there was go much besides to write to you about—the pas- sage concerning friends parting from friends. At first I interpreted it that in your sadness of spiritjand hopelessness of the future you wasli,ed me to sink back into my old place, and be only your friend. it was then no time to argue the point, nor would it have made any difference in my letters either way; but now let me say two words concerning it. My child, when a man loves a woman, before he tries to win her he will have, if he loves unselfishly and generously, many a doubt concerning both her and himself. In fact, as I once read some- where, "When a man truly loves a woman, he would not marry her upon any account unless he was quiet certain he was the beat person she could possibly marry." But as soon as she loves him, and he knows it, and igcertainthat, how- ever unworthy he may be, or however many faults she may possess --I never told vuu y..0 were an angel, did I, little lady 1 --they have cast their lota together chosen ,one another, as your church says, "For better, for worse" --then the face of things is entirely changed. He has his rights, close and strong as no other human being oan hare with regard to her --she has herself given them to him; and if he has any manliness in him he sever will let them go, but hold her fad forever and suer. My dear Theodora. I have not the slightest intention of again subsiding into your friend. I am your lover and and your betrothed husband. I will wait for you any number of years, till you have fulfilled all your duties, and no earthly rghts have power to separate us longer. But, in the meantime, 1 hold fast to my rights. Everything that lover or future hssbend can he to you, 1 must be. And when i tee you. for 1 am determined to sue you at intervals, do not suppose that it will be a friend's kiss 4 there be such a thing that Rut thing to have to enlighten my innocent love, but your father is quite right; Lydia's story is by no means rare, nor is it regarded in the world as we view it. There are very few—especially among the set to which Mr. Charteris belonged —who either profess or practice, the cannot hardly believe share the mine Christian doctrine, that our bodies also common womanhood as my Theodor. are the temples of the Holy Spirit -that Think over carefully what I asked you it man's life should be as pure as a wn- about Lydia Cartwright; it is seldom man's,otherwise no woman, however she suddenly, but step by step, that this may pity, can, or -ought to respect him, degradation comes. And at every step or to marry him. Thi&, it appears to me there is hope; at least, such is nay exper- is the Christian principle of love and ience. marriage— the only one by which the one can be made sacred, and the other "honorable to all." I have tried, in- variably, in every way to set this forth; nor do I hesitate to write of it to my wife that will be ---whom it is my blessing to have united with me in every work which my cionacience once compelled as atonement and my heart now offers in humblest thanksgiving. But enough of myself. While this principle of total purity being essential for both man and woman cannot be too sternly upheld, there is another side to the subject, analagons to one of which ynu and I have often spoken. You will find it in the seventh chapter of Luke, and eighth of John: written, I conclude, to be not only read, but acted up to by all Christians who desire to have in them "the mind of Christ.'' Now, my child. you see what i mean —how the saving command, "Go and au no more," apples to this sin also. You know much more of what Lydia Cartwright used to be than I do, hut it takes long for any one error to corrupt the entire chareeter; and her remem- brance of her mother, as well as her Do not suppose, tram this oeecnp- tion, that I am disheartened at my work here; besides rules and regulations, there is still much room for personal influence, especially in hospital. When • .nen is sick or dying, unconsciously his heart is humanized --he thinks of God. From this simple cause, my calling has a great advantage over all other; and it is much te have physical agencies on one's side, as I do not get them in the streets and town. To -day, looking up from a clean, tidy, airy cell, where the occupant had at least a chance of learn- ing to read if he shose, and seeing through the window the patch of bright blue sky. fresh and pure as ever sky was, 1 thought of two lines you once repeated to me out of your dear head, so full of poetry: 'Yiod's in His Heaven: All's right with the world." Yesterday I had a holiday. I took the train to Treherne Court, wishing to learn something of Rockmount. Ynu said it was your desire I should visit your brother in-law and sister some- times. They seemed very happy -so much se to be quite independent of visitors, but charity to Bank Enfield, imply that they received me warmly, and i gained tidings of you. They me heck there mud be much rood left in the girl eseorted as tar as the park gates, where 1 aft still. She is young. Nor have i heard of her ever falling lower than this once. But ahs may fall; since, from what 1 know of Mr. Charteris a present circum- stances, she must now, with her child, be left completely destitute. it is not the first similar case, by many, that 1 have had to do with: but my love never can have mei with the like before. is she afraid 1 dos she hesitate to hold ont her pure right hand to a poor creature who neer ran be an innocent girl again: walk direct to Mrs. Cartw'rigbt'oj, when I rem,imbered your chary e, that nothing should be attempted without nay father's knowledge and consent. I took the opportunity when he and I were sitting :June together -- Penelope gone to bed.- He was saying she looked estedtoo,both in the jail and the hospital better. He thought she might begin matters. They touched that practical, visiting in the district soon,. if she were benevolent, energetic half of her, which properly persuaded. At least, she ttll lately has made her papist's right,might tale a stroll around the village. hand in the parish. I saw her largeHe should ask her to -morrow. black eyes brightening up, till an un - 'Yellow Oil is unsurpassed for the cure Max, I am sure she had heard of Tom of Burns, Scald., Bruises, Wounds, Tutton, Frsn:is brows Sim. When I Fmo'st Bites and Chilblains. No other medicine required in the household. It .kippwwmexushe bade m. is for internal as well as external use. go oned, soith I was oebligecdse, to fimab tae Eve• mbottle u guaranteed er give mtis- mierable history. 85e then asked 1 faction All medicine deepen sell it. "L Turion dead f" - -- me Cure that Cough ! 1 ou Nan do rt 1 acid, "No," •ad rderrsd te clic post- ply, safely and surely with Hagy�i script where yet my that both yourself Pectoral Rshuim. Now is the season to and his poor old ruined father hope Tom guard against colds. if you would pre- Turton may yet live b, amend his rays vent Comsumption aeot not 15e mo.t Penelope muttered: trifling symptoms. agyard's Peckml Tlalsam oil never fail you. It cure. "He never will. Better he died. " Croup, Asthma- Bronchitis, WSooping- I mid Dr. Urquhart did not think so. Cough and all Putmor.ary complaints She shook her head impatiently, ex- obtain it of your drttpxist. claiming she was tired, and wished tel s■ — hear no more, and so fell into one of her I Yellow Ch1 is the mart deservedly pn pular rented in the market for RSeuma- long, sullen ,and ss, which sometimes risen Nene gin, Sprains, Bniaso , Frost last for boar.. Bits, f:orc Thrust, Lame Beek, Cnn- 1 wonder whether, among the many traction "f the Muscles, Croup, Quin. crud things she must lie tbiuking about, en and a"Nary variety of Pain, Lame - she aver thick., as has do often, what hnem. or Inflammation. For internal or external nee. Yellow Oil will mover fail towns, of Francis? ynu. Sold by all dealers in med;eine Sometimes, pit:line over how hest to m. deal with her. I have tried to imagine Di SPEPfi1A -- reaghtenn goer di myself in her piece, and eorisider what gesti.00, tome the s bb for utilising wonkl have leen my own feelings toward and atsimil•ting .very atom of food ynu tike, the body needs it for stteneth and Francis now. The sharpest and most vigor. Zopees eleanses the satire sye prossiuent would be the ever -abiding tent, .tiursste. thew liyasr, keep. yon seas. of his d.rradatien- 5e who was sn 1lu step .ble eat tea-p.an nsuh. dear, exited leo the e*isetset tetter rd Sia Letters and postal cards reeve i 'ally sxtolliee 9M tar ••- Rrl.il. r siakhia lower and lower is an, •'e- t/, • in woo: ii gives f* a tris r •r ahai To think '. .. .,o Soler by p Jordan