THE RESIGNED SOUL.
This day be bread and peace my lot;
All else beneath the sun
Thou knowest if best bestowed or not,
And let thy will be done.
—Pope.
Poor Marah Rocke had schooled her soul to resignation; had taught herself just to do the duty of each day as it came, and leave the future—where, indeed, it must always remain—in the hands of God. Since the doctor's delicate and judicious kindness had cherished her life, some little health and cheerfulness had returned to her.
Upon this particular evening of the day upon which Traverse entered upon his medical studies she felt very hopeful.
The little cottage fire burned brightly; the hearth was swept clean; the tea kettle was singing over the blaze; the tiny tea table, with its two cups and saucers and two plates and knives was set: everything was neat, comfortable and cheerful for Traverse's return. Marah sat in her little low chair, putting the finishing touches to a set of fine shirts.
She was not anxiously looking for her son, for he had told her that he should stay at the doctor's until six o'clock; therefore she did not expect him until seven.
But so fast had Traverse walked that just as the minute hand pointed to half-past six the latch was raised and Traverse ran in—his face flushed with joy.
The first thing he did was to run to his mother, fling his arms around her neck and kiss her. Then he threw himself into his chair to take breath.
"Now, then, what's the matter, Traverse? You look as if somebody had left you a fortune!"
"And so they have, or, as good as done so!" exclaimed Traverse, panting for breath.
"What in the world do you mean?" exclaimed Marah, her thoughts naturally flying to Old Hurricane, and suggesting his possible repentance or relenting.
"Read that, mother! read that!" said Traverse, eagerly putting a note into her hand.
She opened it and read:
Willow Heights—Monday.
Dear Madam—My little daughter Clara, fourteen years of age, has just returned from boarding-school to pursue her studies at home. Among other things, she must learn domestic affairs, of which she knows nothing. If you will accept the position of housekeeper and matronly companion of my daughter, I will make the terms such as shall reconcile you to the change. We shall also do all that we can to make you happy. Traverse will explain to you the details. Take time to think of it, but if possible let us have your answer by Traverse when he comes to-morrow. If you accede to this proposition you will give my daughter and myself sincere satisfaction.
Yours truly,
WILLIAM DAY.
Marah finished reading, and raised her eyes, full of amazement, to the face of her son.
"Mother!" said Traverse, speaking fast and eagerly, "they say they really cannot do without you! They have troops of servants; but the old cook is in her dotage and does all sorts of strange things, such as frying buckwheat cakes in lamp oil and the like!"
"Oh, hush! what exaggeration!"
"Well, I don't say she does that exactly, but she isn't equal to her situation without a housekeeper to look after her, and they want you very much, indeed!"
"And what is to become of your home, if I break up?" suggested the mother.
"Oh, that is the very best of it! The doctor says if you consent to come that I must also live there, and that then he can have his medical assistant always at hand, which will be very convenient!"
Marah smiled dubiously.
"I do not understand it, but one thing I do know, Traverse! There is not such a man as the doctor appears in this world more than once in a hundred years."
"Not in a thousand years, mother, and as for his daughter—oh, you should see Miss Clara, mother! Her father calls her Clare—Clare Day! how the name suits her! She is so fair and bright! with such a warm, thoughtful, sunny smile that goes right to your heart! Her face is, indeed, like a clear day, and her beautiful smile is the sunshine that lights it up!" said the enthusiastic youth, whose admiration was as yet too simple and single-hearted and unselfish to tie his tongue.
The mother smiled at his earnestness—smiled without the least misgiving; for, to her apprehension, the youth was still a boy, to wonder at and admire beauty, without being in the least danger of having his peace of mind disturbed by love. And as yet her idea of him was just.
"And mother, of course, you will go," said Traverse.
"Oh, I do not know! The proposition was so sudden and unexpected, and is so serious and important, that I must take time to reflect," said Mrs. Rocke, thoughtfully.
"How much time, mother? Will until to-morrow morning do? It must, little mother, because I promised to carry your consent back with me! Indeed, I did, mother!" exclaimed the impatient boy.
Mrs. Rocke dropped her head upon her hand, as was her custom when in deep thought. Presently she said:
"Travy, I'm afraid this is not a genuine offer of a situation of housekeeper! I'm afraid that it is only a ruse to cover a scheme of benevolence! and that they don't really want me, and I should only be in their way."
"Now, mother, I do assure you, they do want you! Think of that young girl and elderly gentleman! Can either of them take charge of a large establishment like that of Willow Heights?"
"Well argued, Traverse; but granting that they need a housekeeper, how do I know I would suit them?"
"Why, you may take their own words for that, mother!"
"But how can they know? I am afraid they would be disappointed!"
"Wait until they complain, mother!"
"I don't believe they ever would!"
"I don't believe they ever would have cause!"
"Well, granting also that I should suit them"—the mother paused and sighed. Traverse filled up the blank by saying:
"I suppose you mean—if you should suit them they might not suit you!"
"No, I do not mean that! I am sure they would suit me; but there is one in the world who may one day come to reason and take bitter umbrage at the fact that I should accept a subordinate situation in any household," murmured Mrs. Rocke, almost unconsciously.
"Then that 'one in the world,' whoever he, she, or it may be, had better place you above the necessity, or else hold his, her, or its tongue! Mother, I think that goods thrown in our way by Providence had better be accepted, leaving the consequences to Him!"
"Traverse, dear, I shall pray over this matter to-night and sleep on it; and He to whom even the fall of a sparrow is not indifferent will guide me," said Mrs. Rocke; and here the debate ended.
The remainder of the evening was spent in laudation of Clare Day, and in writing a letter to Herbert Greyson, at West Point, in which all these laudations were reiterated, and in the course of which Traverse wrote these innocent words: "I have known Clare Day scarcely twelve hours, and I admire her as much as I love you! and oh, Herbert! If you could only rise to be a major-general and marry Clare Day, I should be the happiest fellow alive!" Would Traverse as willingly dispose of Clare's hand a year or two after this time? I trow not!
The next morning after breakfast Mrs. Rocke gave in her decision.
"Tell the doctor, Traverse," she said, "that I understand and appreciate his kindness; that I will not break up my humble home as yet, but I will lock up my house and come a month, on trial. If I can perform the duties of the situation satisfactorily, well and good! I will remain; if not, why then, having my home still in possession, I can return to it."
"Wise little mother! She will not cut down the bridge behind her!" exclaimed Traverse, joyfully, as he bade his mother good-by for the day, and hastened up to Willow Heights with her answer. This answer was received by the good doctor and his lovely daughter with delight as unfeigned as it was unselfish. They were pleased to have a good housekeeper, but they were far better pleased to offer a poor struggling mother a comfortable and even luxurious home.
On the next Monday morning Mrs. Rocke having completed all her arrangements, and closed up the house, entered upon the duties of her new situation.
Clara gave her a large, airy bed-chamber for her own use, communicating with a smaller one for the use of her son; besides this, as housekeeper, she had of course, the freedom of the whole house.
Traverse watched with anxious vigilance to find out whether the efforts of his mother really improved the condition of the housekeeping, and was delighted to find that the coffee was clearer and finer-flavored; the bread whiter and lighter; the cream richer, the butter fresher, and the beefsteak juicier than he had ever known them to be on the doctor's table; that on the dinner table, from day to day, dishes succeeded each other in a well-ordered variety and well-dressed style—in a word, that, in every particular, the comfort of the family was greatly enhanced by the presence of the housekeeper, and that the doctor and his daughter knew it.
While the doctor and his student were engaged in the library, Clara spent many hours of the morning in Mrs. Rocke's company, learning the arts of domestic economy and considerably assisting her in the preparation of delicate dishes.
In the evening the doctor, Clara, Mrs. Rocke and Traverse gathered around the fire as one family—Mrs. Rocke and Clara engaged in needlework, and the doctor or Traverse in reading aloud, for their amusement, some agreeable book. Sometimes Clara would richly entertain them with music—singing and accompanying herself upon the piano.
An hour before bedtime the servants were always called in, and general family prayer offered up.
Thus passed the quiet, pleasant, profitable days. Traverse was fast falling into a delicious dream, from which, as yet, no rude shock threatened to wake him. Willow Heights seemed to him Paradise, its inmates angels, and his own life—beatitude!