THEY were still in conversation when Mrs. Birtwell returned. Hereyes were wet and her face pale and sorrowful. She sat down besideher husband, and without speaking laid her head against him andsobbed violently. Mr. Birtwell feared to ask the question whoseanswer he guessed too well.
"How is it with our friend?" Mr. Elliott inquired as Mrs. Birtwellgrew calmer. She looked up, answering sorrowfully:
"It is all over," then hid her face again, borne down by excessiveemotion.
"The Lord bless and comfort his stricken ones," said the minister ashe arose and stood for a few moments with his hand resting on thebowed head of Mrs. Birtwell. "The Lord make us wiser, moreself-denying and more loyal to duty. Out of sorrow let joy come, outof trouble peace; out of suffering and affliction a higher, purerand nobler life for us all. We are in his merciful hands, and hewill make us instruments of blessing if we but walk in the ways hewould lead us. Alas that we have turned from him so often to walk inour own paths and follow the devices of our own hearts! His ways areway of pleasantness and his paths are peace, but ours wind too oftenamong thorns and briars, or go down into the gloomy valley andshadow of death."
A solemn silence followed, and in that deep hush vows were made thatare yet unbroken.
"If any have stumbled through us and fallen by the way," said Mr.Elliott, "let us here consecrate ourselves to the work of savingthem if possible."
He reached his hand toward Mr. Birtwell. The banker did nothesitate, but took the minister's extended hand and grasped it witha vigor that expressed the strength of his new-formed purpose. Lightbroke through the tears that blinded the eyes of Mrs. Birtwell.Clasping both of her hands over those of her husband and Mr.Elliott, she cried out with irrepressible emotion:
"I give myself to God also in this solemn consecration!"
"The blessing of our Lord Jesus Christ rest upon it, and make ustrue and faithful," dropped reverentially from the minister's lips.
Somewhere this panorama of life must close. Scene after scene mightstill be given; but if those already presented have failed to stirthe hearts and quicken the consciences of many who have looked uponthem, rousing some to a sense of danger and others to a sense ofduty, it were vain to display another canvas; and so we leave ourwork as it stands, but in the faith that it will do good.
Hereafter we may take it up again and bring into view once more someof the actors in whom it is impossible not to feel a stronginterest. Life goes on, though the record of events be notgiven,--life, with its joys and sorrows, its tempests of passion andits sweet calms, its successes and its failures, its all of good andevil; goes on though we drop the pencil and leave our canvas blank.
It is no pleasant task to paint as we have been painting, nor as wemust still paint should the work now dropped ever be resumed. But aswe take a last look at some of the scenes over which we now draw thecurtain we see strong points of light and a promise of good shiningclear through the shadows of the evil.
THE END.
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