Hesper, the Home-Spirit

CHAPTER XXI.

A NEW PHASE OF FEELING

The next morning after the arrival of Mose, as Hesper was at work in her chamber, there came a light tap at the door.

“Come in,” she said, and Mose entered.

“Hesper,” he said, as he took a seat by her side, “there was one thing that I did not have an opportunity to speak to you about last night, so I thought I would come to you this morning. When I was in Canton with Harry, we often sat down together, and talked about home folks. The poor fellow’s heart yearned sadly after his friends, and if he didn’t think it would seem altogether too unmanly to leave such good business as he is in at present, I don’t believe he would stay there another day. He often mentioned you, for he said that of all his playmates, there was not one who seemed nearer or dearer to him than you; and then, Hesper, you must forgive me, but I couldn’t help telling him what a patient, true-hearted sister you were: How thoughtful, industrious, and” —

“Fie, Mose!” said Hesper, blushing deeply – “He must have thought you wanted to recommend me.”

“Not by any means! for it was altogether unnecessary, as he thought full enough of you already. I let him read all your letters.”

“Why, Mose! I wouldn’t have thought it! I only wrote them for you, and they weren’t fit for any one else to see.”

“Harry thought they were, though, for he read them again and again, and then he asked me if I supposed you would be willing to write such letters to him. He said he was often very lonely so far away from home, and sometimes discouraged, but if he could be expecting such pleasant little messengers from you, it would put new life into his heart and strength into his hands, and he could be more content to remain there, so long as duty or necessity demanded. I told him I had no doubt you would be willing, for you were always glad to do anything that would make another happy. More than that, Hesper, I will say, that although Harry is one of the kindest, best hearted fellows in the world, yet he isn’t what he should be. I love him as I do an own brother, but then I saw that he was easily led into temptation, and liked a good time a little too well. Now this would be precisely the reason why some people would advise you not to write him, but I don’t think so.”

“No, no;” said Hesper. “It’s love, not hatred, that calls back the erring, and I should be the last one to turn away from Harry in such a case.”

“He isn’t a bad fellow by any means,” said Mose – “only inclined to be wild and thoughtless. You can have more influence with him than any one, Hesper, and therefore I say write to him by all means, for there is no knowing what dangers your kind and encouraging words may save him from.”

“I will, most certainly,” replied Hesper, earnestly – “But, then,” she added with some hesitation, “I don’t know how to begin. I would much rather he should write to me first.” “Which he has done,” said Mose, as he drew a small package from his pocket and tossed it into her lap. “He gave me that, the day I left, and as he put it into my hand, he said – ’Mose speak a good word for me to your sweet sister, for though I am sometimes wrong in head, yet I’m true at heart, and shall remain so, if Hesper will consent to be my guiding star.”

There was a somewhat nervous movement to Hesper’s fingers as she attempted to untie the string. As the knot did not yield readily, she clipped it at once with her scissors – tore off the wrapper in haste, and there was a letter and another likeness of Harry.

“Now,” said Mose, as he rose from his seat, “I will leave you to your own reflections, but let me suggest, that if you answer that letter, you must do so soon, for the next mail starts in the course of a few days.”

Scarcely had Mose left the room, when Hesper commenced reading her letter, and we shall consider it no betrayal of confidence, if we give an exact copy.

“My Dear Little Wife:

For so I must ever call you. It seems very awkward, at first, to think of writing to you, but I feel that I must, for my heart is very full, and I wish to awaken an answering spirit in return. The sight of your brother Mose, and the long conversations we have had together about home, has made me almost wish to be a boy again, and to wander hand in hand with you over my native hills once more. It is nearly three years now since we parted, and time must have made some important changes in us both, but I hope it has not touched the blessed affection of our childhood. You are in your eighteenth year now, and I in my twenty-third, therefore we cannot think of each other precisely as we did. I am no longer the wild, careless boy, who ran races with Bose along the seashore, or climbed the hickory trees to shake down the ripened nuts for you. Neither are you now, the little round faced girl whom I so often dragged to school on my sled, or carried over the brook in my arms, when it was so swollen as to overflow the stepping-stones. We loved each other very much then – as much as if we were brother and sister, but I do not want you to think of me as a brother now. The morning I parted from you on the wharf, you threw your arms about my neck, kissing me again and again, as the tears streamed down your rosy cheeks. I said to you – be my good “little wife” till I come back, and then you shall be my wife in reality. You only answered, as you clasped your arms still more closely – ’O Harry! Harry! How much I shall miss you!’

After the boat reached the ship, I took the glass, and looking out, I saw that same little girl standing upon the cap-log of the wharf, with her hands shading her eyes, and gazing earnestly towards the ship. Bless her dear good heart! I said to myself, there is not one who thinks more of me than she, and I was glad to know that I should be remembered by one so faithful and true. I have seen some hard experience since then – have fallen into various temptations and done many wrong things, for I grew careless and forgetful. But when Mose came, and I read your letters, so tender, so thoughtful and kind, I longed to be good again, and to have you write such letters to me, only do not write as if I were your brother. O no: Hesper. We are what may be called a young man and woman now, therefore I would have you love me with a different love, which shall grow broader and deeper as time rolls on, and at length unite our hearts as one forever. Hesper, if you will be my guiding star, I shall learn to love all that is high, and noble, and worthy. I shall have something certain to love and labor for, and something to remind me of God and holy things in this heathenish land. Perhaps you think that you are yet too young to turn your mind to such things; but no, Hesper, you are plenty old enough to know whether you can love your old companion more than as a brother; old enough too to think of the new relations and responsibilities which life may bring, and to prepare for them gradually. You can do me much good if you will, Hesper, for there is nothing awakens a young man’s better feelings more effectually, however wayward he may be, than to know that a true hearted, pure minded woman loves him, prays for him, and is willing to trust her happiness to him.

In two years more I shall be home again – ’Home again!’ How those words make my heart throb and dim my eyes as I write them! Then, as I clasp your hand in mine, and look upon your well remembered face once more, may it not be with the thought that I am never to be parted from you again? O Hesper! do not take away this great and pleasant hope from me, but write to me words of strength and encouragement, and both God and my own heart shall bless you. Write to me soon, for I shall wait most anxiously to hear from you.

Hesper read this letter with a throbbing heart and tearful eyes, and when she had finished it, she laid her face upon the table and wept freely.

“Why!” she said at length, as she brushed away her tears, “there was nothing in that letter to make me weep! How foolish I am!” With an effort at self-control she arose and walked the floor a few moments, then, observing the miniature, she took it and looked at it long and thoughtfully. Her face gradually assumed a serene and beautiful expression, and at length, seemingly unconscious of what she did, she pressed the likeness to her lips.

“What is that, Hesper?” said her mother, who had entered unheard, and stood close behind her.

Hesper turned and blushed, but the next moment she threw her arms around her mother’s neck, and laid her head on her bosom.

“O mother!” she said, “I am glad you have come, for I am almost bewildered, and need you to think for me. There is one who is trying to steal your daughter’s heart from you, and perhaps you have come in just the right time to prevent it.”

“That, I am sure I shall not do,” replied her mother, “if it only goes in the right direction, for I have seen enough of my daughter’s heart, to know that it can contain all her affection for me, and a much greater love beside.”

Hesper placed a chair for her mother, and then read the letter aloud. There was a troubled expression to Mrs. Greyson’s face, but she did not allow her daughter to perceive it.

“And now, what shall I do, mother?” said Hesper, as she concluded.

“Let your own heart answer, dear child.”

“But its words are very uncertain. Advise me, dear mother! advise me!” she added, entreatingly.

“Hesper,” said her mother, as she placed her hand beneath her daughter’s chin, and looked her steadily in the eyes, “Do you think you love Harry more than as a brother.”

“I – I think I could if I tried,” stammered Hesper, with a very honest look.

“You do love him,” said her mother, “and therefore I say – use your love and influence as far as possible for his good, and trust God for the result. I cannot help dreading for you, my dear child, the experience which such association and relationship bring, but it is all for the best; for you would always be a child in heart and mind without it. Go on and take your woman’s lot as it comes, for there is a good God above, who ordereth all things well.”

“Mother! mother!” said Hesper, in a faltering tone, as she crept close to the bosom of her sympathising parent, “I am afraid of life and what lies before me, and wish I could die now. I cannot bear to think of going away from you and father, to live with one who may be unkind and neglectful towards me. I will write to Harry and tell him that I love him very much, but I fear that I can never marry him.”

“That is childish,” said her mother, “and you will know that it is, when you have had a wider experience. No, my dear child; take the cup of life just as God mingles it, thanking Him not only for the sweet but also for the bitter. Joy and sorrow is the common lot of all below, and those who drink most willing of the draught as it comes, are best prepared for a higher and holier life above.”

CHAPTER XXII.

THE STRANGER GUEST

It happened very fortunately that Mose could stay at home all winter, for Mr. Greyson’s health began to fail him, so that he could not work as formerly, and therefore every cent that Mose earned, went to support the family. Hesper also took in plain sewing, which, with the time she devoted to the education of her younger brothers, kept her always busy. The interchange of letters between her and Harry, was as frequent as time and distance would allow, and so grateful did the poor fellow seem for her kindness, so tender and delicate in his expressions of affection, and so hopeful for the future, that the thought of him became to her a continual inspiration and joy. His name was mingled in her prayers, and she thanked God most sincerely for this new and beautiful phase in her experience.

The spring of that year was very mild and early, and as soon as possible, the whole Greyson family commenced gardening operations. Hesper reserved the front yard for herself, and soon converted it into a most flourishing flower-garden. Her tulips and daffodils, hyacinths and pansies, were the admiration of the whole village, and especially of aunt Betsey, who helped herself from them freely.

One evening, about sunset, as she was very busy among the flowers, she was startled by the sound of a footstep, and turning, she beheld a strange gentleman, very tall and pale, just entering the front gate. He slightly raised his hat, and bowed coldly, as he said —

“Good evening, Miss. Is Moses Greyson – your brother, I suppose – at home?”

“No, sir,” replied Hesper, “he went down to the village about half an hour since, but said he should be back soon. Will you please step in and wait for him?”

“No, I thank you,” said the stranger, “I prefer walking till he returns, and perhaps I may meet him.”

He raised his hat, with another stiff bow, and then turned away. Hesper looked after him with curiosity and surprise. His face, though so very pale, was handsome, on account of the regular features, large dark eyes and high forehead, but then the expression of his countenance was of a marble coldness, and his whole manner stiff and formal. She felt quite certain that she had seen his face before, but where, she could not tell. She perplexed herself a long time over this dim memory, when suddenly it occurred to her that this person must be Mr. Clyde, the friend of Mose, whose likeness he had given to aunt Nyna by mistake, on the day of his return.

“Dear me!” said Hesper to herself, with a half shudder, “I don’t see what Mose can fancy in him, for I am sure I don’t like him at all.”

It was about dark when Mose returned, and then he came alone.

“Hesper,” said he, “I have seen my friend, Mr. Clyde. He is stopping at the hotel down in the village, and after a deal of persuasion, he has at length consented to take his baggage and come here, so I thought I would run home and tell you that you might prepare for him.”

“O dear!” said Hesper, with a look of dismay, “I’m almost sorry, for he is so cold and formal, that I never shall be able to get acquainted with him.”

“Well” – replied Mose, with some hesitation, “I suppose, to tell the truth, that the less notice you take of him, the better. He was always very peculiar, but he is more so now, for this reason. When he came home, about six months ago, he was engaged to a very beautiful and accomplished lady, whom he was to marry soon after his arrival. But you can judge of his feelings, when he found that only a few weeks previous she had married another, and the only excuse she made, was, that she loved this one better, and therefore felt it was right for her to marry him.”

“How heartless!” exclaimed Hesper.

“Well, in consequence of this,” resumed Mose, “Mr. Clyde has become bitter against the whole sex. He believes they are all false hearted and designing, and does not wish to have any dealings with them. I think he will feel differently about this, however, when time has taken away the sting of his disappointment; but at present he is in a very unhappy frame of mind, and I think is almost sick.”

“Poor fellow,” said Hesper, in a sympathizing tone. “I am glad you have invited him here. I will do all I can to make him comfortable, and at the same time will be very careful not to trouble him in any way. What a sad thing it must be to have one’s brightest and best hopes in life disappointed.” She thought of Harry, and inwardly rejoiced that no such dark shadow lay between them.

With all possible haste she made ready the best chamber, for the expected guest, and placed a small bouquet of her choicest flowers upon the stand. An hour afterwards, Mr. Clyde entered with Mose, and retired directly to his chamber. Hesper saw nothing of him that night, but when, at a late hour, she sought her own quiet pillow, she lay awake and listened a long time to the measured footsteps of the unhappy man who paced the floor in the chamber beyond. Her heart sorrowed deeply for him, and she besought the great Father earnestly, that a blessing of peace might fall upon “the stranger within their gates.”

Very early the next morning – just as the first peep of daylight began to crimson the eastern sky, Mose stepped quietly into Hesper’s chamber, and awakened her.

“Hesper,” he said, “Mr. Clyde is really quite sick. Just now, when I awoke, I heard him moan as if in pain, and I hurried at once into his room. I found him yet dressed, lying upon the outside of the bed, as though he had only thrown himself down for a short nap. He breathed quick and heavily – his face and hands were burning with fever, and he talked constantly in his sleep. I managed with a great deal of difficulty to arouse him, and gave him some water. I asked him if he felt sick, it was some time before he understood me, and then he said – ’Yes, Mose, sick in every bone of my body. I have tried to throw off these terrible feelings, for the last three weeks, but now they have fairly got possession of me. Let them come though, I say, for the sooner I die the better.’”

“Then he dropped into the same troubled sleep again, and I left him. Now I want you to get up and dress you, while I run over to Dr. Smiley’s, for I think this matter should be attended to directly.”

“By all means,” said Hesper, whose sympathies were at once awakened. “Poor fellow, how I do pity him.”

Mose left her, and she arose and dressed herself immediately. As she listened, she too could hear the quick, heavy breathing, in the room beyond, and the broken sentences he uttered in his sleep. It was not long before Mose and the doctor arrived. Upon going up to see the sick man, the doctor ordered him to be put to bed at once, and to be kept there. He said that he was evidently threatened with a fever, but by proper care and attention, it might be broken up at once. His whole nervous system appeared to be very much disordered, and therefore he must of necessity be sick for a time, before he could recover – that the best way for him was to lie still and take it as quietly as possible, and in the end, it might prove a benefit to him. He gave him very little medicine – put him on low, simple diet, and advised Mose to sit with him through the day, as his mind seemed to wander greatly.

It was no small tax upon the time and attention of the brother and sister, to have the care of a sick person added to their other responsibilities, but instead of murmuring, they rejoiced that they were able to meet this new demand upon their sympathies, and spared no exertions to make the sufferer comfortable. Mose remained with him through the whole of three days and nights, during which time the sick man only sat up long enough to have his bed made, which Hesper did as quickly and quietly as possible. She put the whole room in order in a very few moments – brought him his breakfast of nicely prepared gruel or some other light food, and then, like a good fairy, vanished till she was needed again. She never spoke one word to him or Mose while she was in the room, and scarcely glanced towards the sick man, who usually sat pale and motionless in his high backed chair, seemingly unmindful of all things. But he was not so, by any means, for he watched Hesper closely, as she stole so quietly about his room, and finally slipped out like a frightened bird.