CHAPTER XX. THE DAWNING LIGHT.
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SOME little time before the supper bell rang, De
Forrest sauntered in, and witnessed a scene that
both surprised and puzzled him. And yet a lover
would scarcely have found in the quiet and pretty
picture that the parlor and its occupants made, any
ground for jealousy. Hemstead was at the centre
table, under the now lighted chandelier, reading
aloud from the Bible. Lottie sat by the hearth, the
fire-light playing upon an unusually grave and
thoughtful face.
“Well,” he exclaimed, “you look for all the
world like an old married couple keeping Sunday
together.”
Of course Hemstead flushed. But why should
Lottie's color grow richer than the ruddy fire-light
warranted? She knew she was blushing, and the
fact puzzled her, for it was a new experience to find
the blood flying into her face, and her heart in a sudden
flutter.
She was also excessively annoyed at De Forrest's
intrusion, for such it seemed, though he had an
equal right to the parlor with herself. We usually
judge unjustly, in proportion as we feel strongly.
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But the habit of her old, insincere life swayed her,
and she said lightly:
“If, instead of dozing away the whole afternoon,
you would follow Mr. Hemstead's example and read
the Bible, you would be the better for it.”
“I would have read to you all the afternoon, if
you had given me a chance, and even from the Bible
if you had asked for it,” De Forrest replied, with an
injured air.
“Well, you see Mr. Hemstead is a predestined
missionary, and he no doubt thought, and correctly,
too, that he would never find a truer object of missionary
effort than myself; so I have obtained a better
knowledge of the Bible this afternoon, than ever
before.”
They were now joined by others, and the conver
sation became general. Soon after they went out to
supper.
The depression of the sermon appeared to have
passed from the rest, as well as from Lottie and
Hemstead, though for different reasons. The latter
had gone out of themselves toward God, and had
found Him the source of light and cheer. The others
had forgotten Him, and still remained in the dim,
chill grottos of their unbelief, illumining their darkness
by such artificial and earth-lit tapers as the
occasion offered. Mrs. Marchmont's apartments were
cosy and elegant, the supper inviting, the ruddy wood
fire and easy-chairs suggested luxurious comfort; and
why should they not be comfortable, and quietly
forget their dismal thoughts about God, and the
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self-denial of the Cross? The current of ordinary and
worldly life, which Hemstead's sincere but mistaken
words had rudely interrupted, now began to flow on
as quietly and smoothly as before.
But with Lottie it was very different, and the
tides of her life seemed seeking new channels.
Bel, and to a certain extent the others, noted peculiarities
in her manner and that of Hemstead. Her
moodiness was gone, but in its place was not her
old levity. When Moses came down from the presence
of God, his face shone so that he was compelled
to veil its brightness; and it has ever seemed true
that nearness to God and his truth gives spiritual
light and attractiveness to the plainest features.
Lottie was more than beautiful that evening. She
was radiant. Like a sunrise in June, two forms of pure
ennobling love were dawning in her heart; and the
first, faint, unrecognized emotions illumined her face
strangely at times. Her manner was unusually gentle
and while responding to the general conversation, she
had many moments of abstraction, and was evidently
carrying on a chain of thought very different from
that appearing upon the surface of their table-talk.
But all remembered that Lottie abounded in
moods, and that she was what the common-place
call “an odd girl.”
But why Hemstead, after his gloom and chagrin
at dinner, should now be beaming, was not so clear.
Bel thought—
“The poor moth! Lottie has been dazzling him
with her dangerous smiles. It's a shame.”
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After supper Harcourt appeared, and sacred
music was in order. Even De Forrest and Addie
joined in this with considerable zest. It was the
proper, and about the only thing that could be done
on a Sabbath evening. The most irreligious feel
better for the occasional indulgence of a little religious
sentimentality. When the esthetic element is
supreme and thorny self-denial absent, devotion is
quite attractive to average humanity. Moreover the
dwarfed spiritual nature of the most materialistic
often craves its natural sustenance; and Sabbath
evening at times suggests to the worldly that which
alone can satisfy. The “Sun of Righteousness”
sheds a pale, reflected ray upon them; but this is
better than utter darkness, and may lure forward
where the Divine smile will beam fully upon them.
Do not let us undervalue Sunday evening sentiment
and sacred music, even though occurring where there
was a dance yesterday, and where there will be a revel
to-morrow. There must always be a first support on
which the grovelling vine can commence climbing
heavenward.
Though sentiment, like pale moonlight, causes
no ripe and wholesome growth, it is better than
darkness, and is proof that the vivifying light is shining
somewhere.
In the case of Hemstead, however, the words of
praise and prayer composing the hymns sung were
the intelligent utterances of a believing heart to the
natural object of its faith and devotion.
Lottie was not much given to sentiment, even in
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religion, and the sacred words, a week before, would
have come from her lips only, while she thought of
other things; but now she was surprised to find how
her heart was stirred by them, and how, from being
empty phrases, they were growing full of beautiful
meaning.
That was a memorable Sabbath evening to her
It seemed as if within her old, earth-born, material
life, a subtle spiritual one had been kindled, which
illumined and glorified everything.
She felt as if endowed with a new sense, by
means of which she was becoming dimly conscious
of a new and different world. She was more than
happy. She was thrilling with strange and mysterious
joy, and was elated beyond measure, as if
Christian principle and heaven were already won;
as many a pilgrim is happier before the quickly
coming fall into the “slough of despond,” than ever
again until within the gates of the Celestial City.
Lottie's flame-like spirit was not prone to take
anything coolly; and now that her soul was kindled
by fire from heaven, and in addition her whole nature
awakened by the as yet unrecognized, but strongest
of earthly forces, the natural love of her heart for
the one to whom only had been given the power to
inspire it, little wonder that her but half-suppressed
excitement was surprising both to herself and others—
little wonder that she was more radiant than ever
she had been upon the gayest and most brilliant
occasions.
There was nothing unnatural in her experience
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She had looked upon the face of Him who is the
light and life of the world. Let her enjoy the brief
ecstasy. Never chill the soul, that is thrilling with
the first strong pulses of spiritual life, by discouraging
doubts. Remind them, if you will, that now, as
with the disciples of old, the moments on the Mount
of Transfiguration are few, and the days of works and
self-denial on the lowly plain many. But do not fail
to close your homily with the assurance that the
work and self-denial are of earth, while the illumined
mount is the type of an eternal heaven.
The evening was passing. While devotion burned
more brightly, sentiment was flickering out. The
others were growing weary. Hemstead had the tact
to see this, and he also wished to be alone that he
might think over the bewildering experiences of the
day. Therefore he suggested that they close with
Ray Palmer's beautiful hymn, that from the first moment
of faith, until faith's fruition, is the appropriate
language of those who accept of God's remedy for
evil.
“My faith looks up to Thee
Thou Lamb of Calvary,
Saviour Divine.
Now hear me while I pray,
Take all my guilt away,
Oh let me from this day
Be wholly Thine.”
He hoped that with Lottie, it might crown the
teachings of the day, and fix her thoughts on the
true source of help.
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This hope found a richer fulfilment than he
he expected, for to her awakened spirit the lines
seemed inspired to express her deepest need. As
the last words trembled from her lips the rush of
feeling was too strong for repression, and she impetuously
left the room.
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Roe, Edward Payson, 1838-1888 [1875], From jest to earnest. (Dodd & Mead, New York) [word count] [eaf668T].
