"But that is very different," they said.
Only once she lost her temper. There was a sort of family conclave
of aunts and relatives, and they had beset her sorely. At last she
turned upon them suddenly, and asked:
"Are you Christians? Do you believe there is a God?"
"Why, certainly. Do you think we are heathen?"
"Why talk, then, like heathen, and act like infidels? If it's the
thing in the fashionable world to marry a trusted servant of a human
government, how much better must it be to marry a servant of the
King of All! I honor my friend because she marries the man she
loves, and I shall marry the one I love. I am of age--I have chosen
my lot. Mark my words! you will yet be proud of the one whom you
now so despise; while the one you wish me to marry will cover his
own and the names of all connected with him with shame"; and she
left them to recover from this bombshell of truth, as best they
might.
But the patient gentleness which she usually manifested at length
won even their obdurate hearts. Her father was the first to relent,
and was finally brought, by Lottie's irresistible witchery, quite
over on her side. But, in her mother's case, there was only partial
resignation to a great but inevitable misfortune. Mrs. Marsden was
a sincere idolater of the world for which she lived.
In Aunt Jane, Lottie had a stanch ally, and a sympathizing and
comforting helper.
But the postman, who brought, with increasing frequency, letters
that were big and heavy, like the writer, was the man whom Lottie
most doted on in all the city.
With the whole energy of her forceful, practical nature, she trained
herself for her work, as Hemstead was training himself for his. And
when, a year later, she gave him her hand at the sacred altar, it
was not a helpless hand.
Years have passed. Mr. and Mrs. Hemstead are the chief social,
refining, and Christianizing influences of a growing Western town.
They have the confidence and sympathy of the entire community, and
are people of such force that they make themselves felt in every
department of life. They are shaping and ennobling many characters,
and few days pass in which Lottie does not lay up in memory some
good deed, though she never stops to count her hoard. But, in
gladness, she will learn in God's good time that such deeds are
the riches that have no wings.
She made good her warning, and never became a "solemn, ghostly sort
of a missionary." She was usually as wholesome as the sunshine, or if
the occasion required, as a stiff north wind, and had a pronounced
little way of her own, when things went wrong at home or in
the church, of giving all concerned the benefit of some practical
common sense. But she also, in the main, kept her pledge to endure
patiently, as she had borne her hunger on the mountain, and many
privations and trials of their lot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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