Love After Marriage; and Other Stories of the HeartHentz, Caroline Lee
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Love After Marriage; and Other Stories of the Heart
Hentz, Caroline Lee
Fiction; Short stories, American
"Recall not the image of departed beauty, oh my mother! I made it my
idol, and my heavenly Father, in infinite mercy, consumed it with the
breath of his mouth. Speak not of goodness--my life has been one long
act of sin and ingratitude. I can look back upon nothing but wasted
mercies, neglected opportunities, and perverted talents. But blessed
be God, since I have been led in penitence and faith to the feet of a
crucified Saviour, I dare to believe that my sins are forgiven, and
that my trembling spirit will soon find rest in the bosom of Him, who
lived to instruct and died to redeem me."
Ellen paused, for difficult breathing had often impeded her utterance;
but her prayerful eyes, raised to heaven, told the intercourse her
soul was holding with One "whom not having seen she loved, but in whom
believing, she rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory." At
this moment, the door softly opened, and the gentle footsteps of him,
whom on earth she most longed to behold, entered the chamber. As she
caught a glimpse of that benign, that venerated countenance, she felt
a glow of happiness pervading her being, of which she thought her
waning life almost incapable. She clasped her feeble hands together,
and exclaimed, "Oh! Mr. M----." It was all she could utter, for tears,
whose fountains she had thought dried for ever, gushed into her eyes
and rolled down her pallid cheeks. Mr. M---- took one of her cold
hands in his, and looked upon her, for a time, without speaking.
"My daughter," at length he said, and he did not speak without much
emotion, "do you find the hand of God laid heavy upon your soul, or is
it gentle, even as a father's hand?"
"Gentle, most gentle," she answered. "Oh! blessed, for ever blessed be
the hour that sent you, heaven-directed, to guide the wanderer in the
paths of peace! Had it not been for you, I should now be trembling on
the verge of a dark eternity, without one ray to illumine the
unfathomable abyss. Pray for me once more, my beloved friend, and pray
too for my dear mother, that she may be enabled to seek Him in faith,
who can make a dying bed 'feel soft as downy pillows are.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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