"Oh, those blessed, blessed words! I listened as if I had never heard them before. Was I not weary with wrestling with the Almighty? Oh! was I not heavily laden with sins, more than I could bear? Why may I not come? For the first time, tears of real penitence filled my eyes, and with a subdued voice, I said, 'Will you pray for me?' He did pray, as he had done many times before; but I never heard till then. He wept as he besought God earnestly in my behalf. God in mercy answered.
"When he arose, Christ had taken my burden, and I was at rest. I had never disbelieved the Bible. But now its truths came home to my heart, and I was made free.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, almost in rapture, "the goodness and long suffering of God, to me a poor lost sinner."
The excitement of speaking had carried her beyond her strength; and as she lay with her hands clasped, and eyes closed, she looked so pale, I feared she had fainted. But she presently opened her eyes, while a heavenly smile played around her mouth. I kissed her forehead; but I could not speak.
Her mother, not hearing the bell for some time, looked into the room to see if she were asleep; but perceiving me, she returned to her work.
"Dear Mrs. Lenox," said the sweet girl, "you'll pray with me." I hesitated. "For your husband's sake, please."
I could not deny her, but saying I would return after a moment, I left the room. I had seen from the window that Cæsar had difficulty in keeping the horse quiet on account of the heat and flies. I told him to ride on a short distance and call for me in about ten minutes.
When I returned, and was about to close the door, Caroline said "no one will disturb us, and the room is very warm."
With my hand in hers, and my face on her pillow, I for the first time addressed my Heavenly Father in presence of a fellow creature. But I was not embarrassed. He who looks from above, put words in my mouth and was near me.
As I arose and stood by the bed, I was startled by the moving of a shadow; and turning quickly to the door I saw my husband standing on the steps with his face buried in his handkerchief.
Passing through this part of the town to visit a patient, he had stopped this morning instead of returning here this afternoon. I do not think he heard me; and if he did, I ought not to feel ashamed, when I dared speak in the presence of the High and Holy One. But I must confess it. I felt for the first time in my life sorry to see him.
"How came you here?" he asked in surprise.
"You forgot you gave me permission to ride out."
"And Cæsar, where is he?"
"There," said I, pointing to the carriage, which was just stopping at the gate. "You must not talk much with her," I said smiling. "But you may talk a little to her if she will be very quiet. I fear she has already had too much company." Promising to visit her again as soon as possible, I went with Frank to the carriage, when he returned to his patient. I found Pauline struggling hard to keep her eyes open, and on consulting my watch, concluded to postpone my call upon Mr. Lewis until another day. So I merely left the flowers in passing, saying to his wife that I would endeavor to make him an early call.
"He has been lotting upon seeing you, maam. He says of the two, you better understand his feelings, seeing you've had the same." We hastened home, where the sleepy girl was glad to drink some milk and go to bed.
And now, dear mother, with remembrances of affection to the dear home-circle, I close this part of my journal, which I hope will interest you. I intend writing to Bell and Nelly in answer to theirs just received.
I gladly resume my journal; I feel lost without my writing. Emily appears really better. Of course she knows nothing of Mr. Benson's intended departure. I have not been able to learn when he sails. He only says in his note, "as soon as his arrangements can be made." Emily seems indifferent to every thing; and, when mother and I talk cheerfully, turns her face away. But I have seen the tears trickle through her fingers when she thought herself unnoticed. To-day, however, she is brighter, and though not by any means as she once was, she appears to have made her mind up to some course; and to feel better for her decision. But this is mere suspicion. Time will show whether I am correct. This afternoon she sat up in the easy chair more than an hour, and amused herself with Pauline, who looked at her very seriously at first, as if she did not quite understand all these changes.
Early this morning, I begged a ride with Frank as far as Mr. Lewis's, and told him my intention was to walk back. To the latter part of my proposition, he very unwillingly consented, as it is half a mile, and the heat is great. But with my parasol I thought I might venture.
Mrs. Lewis came into the little entry to receive me, and told me in a low tone, her husband was failing fast, and she thought, could not live many days. "He will be right pleased to see you. He has set his heart upon it." I then followed her up-stairs to the room. He is now wholly confined to the bed.
Every article of furniture, I observed, was scrupulously neat; and something in the appearance and conversation of the family reminded me forcibly of the household of the Dairyman, as described in Legh Richmond's well known tract entitled "The Dairyman's Daughter." There was an air of respectability, which is often felt, but which cannot easily be described.
Mr. Lewis was sitting bolstered up in bed. He could not breathe when lying down; and could only speak in a broken whisper, with long intervals between his words. Sitting with him was a married sister, who had followed him to this country, and who had now come to remain with him until after the closing scene.
I took my seat near the bed, and begged Mrs. Lewis to allow me to pass him the cordial with which he was constantly obliged to wet his lips. With a courtesy she thanked me and resumed her sewing, while I addressed a few words to the poor sufferer.
"I am afraid you are too sick to hear me talk, you seem very ill this morning."
"All – peace – here," he whispered, laying his emaciated hand upon his breast.
I expressed very great pleasure that God had heard his prayer, and asked whether he felt any of the fears with which he was troubled at my last visit.
He shook his head; and when I held the cup to his mouth said, "I – can – trust – him. He – will – do – right."
This, then, was the source of his peace. My eyes filled with tears as I quoted the passage of Scripture which came into my mind. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose soul is staid on Thee." I noticed that he looked exceedingly faint, and motioned to his wife, who immediately held some camphor to his nostrils, saying as she did so, that he could take no nourishment.
When he revived, I thought I had better retire; but he looked wistfully first at me, then at his wife, who caught his meaning and said, "He would like to have you read and pray with him as the Doctor does."
I made no reply. What could I say? She arose and gave me an old, well-preserved family Bible; and turning to the fourth of Hebrews, I was just commencing to read about "the rest that remaineth to the people of God," when a gentle knock at the outer door called Mrs. Lewis from the room. I went on, however, in compliance with a wistful look from the invalid, and read through the chapter, having in the mean time come to the conclusion, that if the sister would leave the room, I would try to comply with the dying man's request. Just as I closed the book, she stepped softly behind me, and desired me to go below for a moment. Explaining this in a word to Mr. Lewis, I complied with her wish.
Entering the lower room, I found Mr. Munroe, who had been requested by the Doctor to call. I was much interested in the account given by Mrs. Lewis to her pastor; and which she narrated in language above her station. I have often noticed that persons in humble life when speaking upon religious topics, are elevated by their theme, and by their familiarity with the language of scripture.
Mr. Lewis was born of pious parents who early dedicated him to God, and sought prayerfully to educate him in the fear of his Maker. He had lived a perfectly moral and peaceful life, having been able to support his family at least in comfort, until laid low