"EVER, evermore!" repeated a young man, bending with a smile overthe fair face that rested on his breast.
"Yes! evermore!" softly breathed the smiling lips upon which hegazed, and. evermore shone from the melting, heavenly eyes.
"And you believe all these bright fancies you have been telling meof, darling?" asked the young man.
"Ah! yes--they are truth to me; they dwell in my heart ofhearts--they belong to the deepest and sweetest mysteries of mybeing. I gaze out through the glory upon life, and I see nocoldness, no darkness--everything is coloured with bright radiancefrom the eternal world. It is happiness that gives me this beautifulview. I have known that the world was filled, with love, but I havenever so clearly seen it before. And sure I am that if I were to dienow, this same splendour of love would still be poured through mysoul; for it is myself, and I cannot lose it. If you were next weekin Europe, far from me, would not your inner world be illumined withlove and hope?"
"It certainly would!
"And can you doubt the durability, the truth and reality of thisinner-life? Can this clay instrument be of any moment farther thanit serves to develop life, in this, our first school?--we should notconfound the earthly dwelling with the free man who makes it histemporary home. Ah! Horace, I feel, I am, sure, you will some dayenjoy all these ennobling thoughts with me, and then existence willalso be to you sublime."
An expression of radiant hope flitted over the young man's face, andhe kissed the soft lips and eyes of his betrothed, while hemurmured, "I would suffer the loss of all happiness on earth, Iwould bear every stroke the Almighty might inflict, if Icould believe as you do, of a life beyond this. I am no unbeliever,you know. I read my Bible daily, but beyond this world everything tome is misty and dark. I shudder at the ghastliness of the grave, andwould forget that I cannot always clasp your warm heart to my own.You were surely sent to be my good angel, to teach me all that isgentlest and best in my nature, and this holy love must lastevermore. I have always smiled at the idea of love, at first sight,but when I first saw your face, Elma, none ever was so welcome; yetif you had not proved all that your face and manner promised, Ishould not have fallen in love. I half-believe matches are made inHeaven--ours will be Heaven-made, if any are. You think human beingsare made for each other, as the saying is, do you not?"
"Yes! returned Elma, smiling, "I hope we are made to be partnersin this world, and a better one, but how can I know it? When myhappy womanhood first dawned, I had wild, sweet dreams that here onearth I and many others would surely meet the true half thatbelonged to us--one with whom every thought would find a response. Ihave met many whose views are like mine, and yet whose natures areso different that we could not see each other's souls; perhaps ifthey had loved me, I could have seen more clearly--but my rebelliousheart went forth to meet you, although I tried so long to turnaway--although I trembled to think the religion of our natures wasso unlike."
"I once thought, love, that I should never win you--it was your palelips and the mournful intensity of your look, when we met after along absence, that gave me new hope; and I have often wondered,Elma, why you gave so unhesitating an assent, when you had formonths at a time avoided me at every opportunity."
"It was because my views had changed in a manner--although stillbelieving in the fitness of two out of the whole universe for eachother, I began to think that on earth these very two might each havea mission to others, and others to them, which would more fully callout their characters, and perhaps develop the dark traits necessaryto be conquered--so that perfect harmony might be evolved fromchaos. It once seemed to me, with the views I held, that it would bea sin for me to unite my destiny with one who did not sympathizewith me on all points. But the sad fate of Augusta Atwood made mereflect deeply. She was my bosom friend, and never did mortal go tothe altar with brighter hopes--never did human being love moreunreservedly. She whispered to me as I arranged her hair on themorning of her bridal:--'This seems to me like the beginning of myheavenly life--there is not a height or depth of my soul thatCharles's nature does not respond to--I know that we two are trulyone." And so it seemed for two happy years--his character took everyone by surprise, perhaps himself, and now Augusta is a miserablyneglected wife, toiling on like an angel to reap good from herdesolated earth-life. Yet we see that her mighty love was not a trueinterpreter. No doubt her lover was sincere at the time in believingthat they not only felt, but thought alike. I have known manyinstances, very many, where two, perhaps equally good and true, havethought themselves fitted for each other and none else; yet on thedeath of one, they have found a companion who was still moreespecially made for them. Thus we see that this is a matter wherethere appears to be little certainty and many mistakes. Doubtless,there are some few blessed ones who truly find their better--half;but in this sinful, imperfect state of life, we cannot believe thatwe are in an order sufficiently harmonious to have this a surething. Perhaps one-third of the women in the world never even lovedhalf as well as they felt themselves capable of loving, simplybecause no object presented himself who could call forth all themusic of a high and noble nature.
"So many a soul o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, Suffers, recoils, then thirsty and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught."
But, Elma, my child, it is not pleasant to me that you should have asingle doubt that we are not dearer to each other than any othermortals could ever be in this world, or the beautiful one you loveto dream of."
"I am telling you, Horace, the thoughts that have been in my mind--Ionly feel now that you are good and gifted, and I love you more thanI ever dreamed of loving."
"And you, sweet, are the breath of my life. It is heavenly to knowthat God has given you, and you alone, to be the angel ministrant ofmy oft tempestuous life: you have risen like a star over my cloudyhorizon--may the light of the gentle star shine on my path, until itleads me unto the perfect day!"
"Only the light of the Sun of Righteousness can do that," returnedElma; then, with a tear glistening on her lash, she added, "I hopeGod will help me to be good and pure, that I may be a medium ofgood, and not evil to you."
Most blessedly passed the days to that hopeful maiden; it was atreasure full of all promise to have, not only the happiness of herlover, but as she trusted, his best good committed to her charge,next to God. When she knelt in the morning hour, her prayer was evera thanksgiving--she lifted up the gates of her soul that the King ofGlory might come in, and His radiant presence permeated her wholebeing--she left to Him the control of her life, all the strangemysteries of heavenly policy, which she felt and knew would ultimatein perfecting her too worldly nature; and she went forth,angel-attended, to her duties, fusing into them this effluent lifethat dwelt so richly within her. Every word of kindness and lovethat dropped from her soft, coral lips, bore with it a portion ofthe smiling life that overflowed her spirit. When she arose, herconstant thought was, "Another day is coming, in which the work ofprogress may go on: I may perhaps this day conquer some evil, or dosome humble good, that will fit me to be a still better angel toHorace, and which shall beautify my mansion in the Heavens."
At length the bridal day came, and fled also like other days, savethat a sweeter brightness enwrapped the soul of Elma; so six monthsor more flitted away in delicious dream-life, for outward thingsmade comparatively slight impression; Elma lived and loved more thanshe thought. But one morning reflection and pain came together; thelatter led in the former, a long-forgotten friend, and the youngwife asked herself how far she had travelled onward and upward sincethe bridal days, since her path had been all sunshine;--she bowedher head and wept bitterly. "Not for me, at least," she sighed, "isconstant happiness a friend,--not yet am I fitted to enjoy thehighest harmony of life. 'Therefore, burn, thou holy pain, thoupurifying fire!' It is meet I should be wounded where my deepestjoys are lodged. I see that it is the lash of pain which must driveme through the golden gates. Yes! I will arise, and thank my Fatherthat He has not been as unmindful of my eternal well-being as Iwould be myself, if left to wander only among flowers of love andgladness."
And what was this grief that awoke the bride from her blissfuldream? It would seem the merest nothing to the strong man of theworld, to the gay woman who glides, superficially through existence.But many a young bride will understand how it might be moresorrowful than the loss of houses and lands. It was the husband'sfirst frown, his first petulant word; it was the key that openedElma's understanding to the true estate of the past. She could nolonger blind her eyes, as she had done, to a certain worldliness inher husband, and which had also reached her through him. Thismorning, that revealed so much, Horace had impatiently exclaimed asElma held forth her Bible to him, as usual,--
"I have not time for that now, child!" and hastily kissing her, heput on his hat, and went forth to his business.
A pale anguish settled on Elma's face as she sunk upon a chair.
"Is this the beginning of sorrows?" she murmured; "he never spoke tome so before, perhaps he will often do so again. If it had beenabout anything else, I think I could have borne it better! Oh God!is the angel leaving our Paradise?"
And she thought over and over again of this worldliness in herhusband, and his want of the high standard in religion that was sodear to her; she felt that she was, in a measure, deceived inhim,--surely once he seemed to dwell in an atmosphere that was morespiritual. Yes! Elma was deceived in him, but Horace had notdeceived her. In the happy glow of his successful love, he hadcaught the warmth of Elma's thoughts; they had charmed hisimagination, in a measure commended themselves to his understanding,and made a temporary impression upon him heart, so that he went outamong men with a more benevolent spirit than he had ever donebefore. But truth, to be abiding, must be sought after with an eagerthirst; and it came to Horace crowned with flowers; he condescendedto take the charmer in, and obeyed her for awhile, then she wasforgotten, he thought not why, and he imperceptibly returned to thereal self, which Elma had never before had an opportunity to becomeacquainted with.
Three years went by. Horace was a devoted husband, no being on earthwas to him so perfect as his wife--no human being had ever exertedover him the quiet, holy influence that belonged to Elma. She hadgradually accomplished infinitely more than she suspected, yet manya time, and oft, had he caused her grieved tears to fall like rain.Many a time had despairing prayers risen from her soul for him,while she breathed out to her God a cry for strength. She felt thatshe saw through a glass darkly; but she sought with most earnestheart for every duty, knowing that thus her pathway would leadcontinually to a more sure and steady light.
Elma often wondered that so much joy was given to her earthly life;but she understood the true philosophy, for her every grief wasregarded as a special messenger from the spirit-land, and amid hertears she looked up, and resolutely answered to the call,"Excelsior!" She was ever receiving with gratitude the blessingsthat clustered about her lot, and, as it were, transmuting allcommon things into pleasures, by seeking out a brightness in them.
But a heavier trial was in store for the wife than she hadanticipated. Horace had been very unfortunate in business; he boreit with more gentleness than Elma had expected, but it wore upon hisspirits; day after day he was busied in settling up, and came homewith a look of sadness and anxiety. One evening he came in with abrighter look.
"What is the news?" asked his wife, as she read his face.
"I have an offer of a clerkship, at a very good salary, eighteenhundred dollars a year!"
"We can get along admirably with that!" said Elma, with a brightsmile. "You know we are retrenching our expenses so much, that wecan live on half that, and the rest can go towards your debts. In afew years you will be able to pay all you owe, will you not?"
"Perhaps so, by exerting every faculty, and living on less than youpropose!"
"Oh! well, we can!" was the eager response. "I'll manage to getalong on almost nothing; as small a sum as you choose to name. Everytrifling deprivation will be an actual delight, that helps todischarge those debts. It will, indeed!" she added, as Horace smiledat her enthusiasm.
"I believe you, little one, every word you say!" and, with an air ofcheerful affection, such as he had not shown for weeks, the husbanddrew his wife's head upon his breast, and, forgetful of coldbusiness cares and the world, they were gay, tender, and happy.
It was with a different look that Horace entered his home the nextevening; a shadow fell on Elma's heart when she saw him, and theevening meal passed in silence.
"What are you thinking of, Horace?" she timidly asked, some timeafter, approaching him as he stood by the window, gazing outgloomily into the star-lighted street.
"I have received a better offer, and have determined to accept it."It must be known that Horace came quickly to a decision, and thenpersevered in it; none knew the vanity of striving to change him,when fairly resolved, better than Elma; but in small matters he wasyielding as Elma herself. She stood in a fearful silence, lookinginto his face, which he had turned towards her.
"I am going to California!" he said, almost sternly, for he fearedElma's tenderness might unman him.
"Not without me?" she asked, with pleading eyes.
"Yes! Elma, I cannot take you, for I shall be constantly travelling,and subject to the greatest hardships,--you could not bear it! Ishall be back in a year and a half."
"I could bear anything better than to be left behind--you do notknow as well as I what would be the greatest hardship for me. Ah!Horace, do not put me to this dreadful trial. Let me go with you,and you will find that I will not utter a complaint. You can leaveme at some place, while you travel over the roughest country--youmay be sick, and need me. I fear men grow hard and selfish there,and what you gain in purse, you may lose in what is dearest to me.'It is not good for man to be alone.'"
"Hush, darling; every word is vain!" answered Horace, clasping herto his breast, and kissing her with passionate vehemence. For thefirst time in his life he wept without any restraint over her. "Doyou think anything but duty would tear me from you? It is my duty tobe just to all men, and to pay what I owe as soon as I can."
"But take me!" sobbed Elma.
"Dear child! you must be reasonable. I know that you fear theinfluence about me will not be as angelically pure as your own, andI love you for that fear. I shall go where no man will care for mysoul as you do; but I shall not forget you, Elma. Now, cheer up, andshow me the ready resolution you have always had at hand."
"I never had such a cruel blow as this before!" returned Elma, in anentire abandonment of grief. "Oh! take me with you, Horace, andnothing in the world will be hard for me."
The wife's pleadings were vain, and in a week she parted from herhusband. After he had gone, she won back a spirit of resignation;indeed, as soon as she found her doom was sealed, she gathered upher strength, and strove to cheer Horace, whose spirits sunkmiserably when he had no longer to support Elma. She laid out a planfor her life during her widowhood, as she called it, and this planwas after the example of One who went about doing good. The wearytime passed slowly, but each day added a little gem to Elma'sheavenly life, and when, at length, she received her husband's lastletter before his return, her thanks gushed forth in gladness, asthey had so often before done, in holy confidence. Part of hisletter ran thus:--
And now, dear love, having told you of the outward success which hasmet my efforts, let me tell you a little of the heart that belongsto you--which you have won from darkness to light. It is filled withimages of hope and love, and a light from your spirit shines throughall--have been ever with me, ever leading me to that 'true lightwhich lighteth every man that cometh into the world.' I often gaveyou pain, my darling, when we were together; it was unintentional,and sprang from the evil of my nature; and a thousand times, whenyou did not suspect it, your gentle look and touch brought to myspirit better thoughts, and the thoughts brought better words anddeeds. You have been the angel of my life still more during ourseparation; for my soul has yearned for your dear presenceconstantly, and every day I have said to myself, 'Would this pleaseElma?' and when I have been enabled to do a kindness, my heartglowed at the thought of Elma's approval. Your blessed spirit neverseems so near to me as when I lift up my soul in prayer. I sometimesfancy your prayers, beloved, have unlocked the Kingdom of Heaven forme. Good bye, dearest life, we shall soon meet.
HORACE."
And when they met, the joy of their first wedding days seemeddoubled. Elma rejoiced at the discipline she had been through, forit had better fitted her for the joyful existence that was beforeher. It had now become more of a habit for her soul to dwell in aheavenly atmosphere--she had learned to rely steadfastly upon herGod for the good gifts of her life, and they were showered upon herabundantly; doubly beautiful, they were shared by a heart in unison.