A Knight of the Nineteenth CenturyRoe, Edward Payson
General
A Knight of the Nineteenth Century
Roe, Edward Payson
Fiction
The curtains in the sitting-room were not drawn, and the family group
was before them. The apartment was furnished with elegance and taste,
but the very genius of dreariness seemed to brood over its occupants.
The sombre colors of their mourning dresses seemed a part of the deep
shadow that was resting upon them, and the depth and gloom of the shadow
was intensified by their air of despondency and the pallor of their
faces. The younger daughter was reading, but the elder and the mother
held their hands listlessly in their laps, and their eyes were fixed on
vacancy, after the manner of those whose thoughts are busy with painful
themes.
Haldane could endure but a brief glance, and rushed in, exclaiming:
"Mother, forgive me!"
His presence was so unexpected and his onset so impetuous that the widow
had no time to consider what kind of a reception she ought to give her
wayward son, of whom she had washed her hands.
Her mother-love triumphed; her heart had long been sore with grief, and
she returned his embrace with equal heartiness.
His sisters, however, had inherited more of their mother's
conventionality than of her heart; and the fact that this young man was
their brother did not by any means obliterate from their minds the other
facts, that he had a very bad reputation and that he was abominably
dressed. Their greeting, therefore, was rather grave and constrained,
and suggested that there might have been a death in the family, and that
their brother had come home to attend the funeral.
But the unworldly Dr. Marks was wholly absorbed in the blessed truth
that the dead was alive and the lost found. He had followed Haldane into
the apartment, rubbing his hands, and beaming general congratulation.
Believing that the serene light of Heaven's favor rested on the youth,
he had forgotten that it would be long before society relaxed its dark
frown. It seemed to him that it was an occasion for great and unmixed
rejoicing.
After some brief explanations had been given to the bewildered
household, the doctor said:
"My dear madam, I could not deny myself the pleasure of coming with your
son, that I might rejoice with you. The Lord has answered our prayers,
you see, and you have reason to be the happiest woman living."
"I am glad, indeed," sighed the widow, "that some light is beginning to
shine through this dark and mysterious providence, for it has been so
utterly dark and full of mystery that my faith was beginning to waver."
"The Lord will net suffer you to be tempted above that you are able,"
said the clergyman, heartily. "When relief is essential it comes, and it
always will come, rest assured. Take comfort, madam; nay, let your heart
overflow with joy without fear. The Lord means well by this young man.
Take the unspeakable blessing he sends you with the gladness and
gratitude of a child receiving gifts from a good Father's hands. Since
he has begun the good work, he'll finish it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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