Chapter Twelve.
Mr Vane’s first letter brought an account of the wedding, and of the gaieties attending it, and his next told them that he had made up his mind to pass the summer on the Continent, returning to spend a month in England in the autumn, before he went home. They heard afterwards from Paris, and then from Rome, but for a time nothing more was said about Frederica’s going to England.
As for Frederica, she said less than she used to do about being “grown up” and “sensible,” but she was more thoughtful and quiet than she had ever been before; and, with the advice and assistance of Miss Robina, laid out for herself a regular course of reading, which she pursued with praiseworthy diligence, considering all things. The reading of the Bible with her mother and Selina was commenced again, and nothing was permitted to interfere with it. She began also to take her little brothers regularly to church, and to listen and try to understand all that she heard there. She did not get discouraged, though there was not much to interest or to instruct in the sermons she often heard.
There was little hope of a happy summer to them, as the days went on. The heat which last year seemed to bring healing to Mrs Vane, brought this year weakness and nervous prostration painful to see. And something even worse than these came with them, to make the days and nights terrible to her—the fear of death,—death, which she knew to be drawing near. It had come to her in former illnesses, but never as it came now.
Mr Jerome. St. Cyr never spoke many words to her in private, but they had been strong words that she could not forget, about her godless marriage and her godless life, which had brought on her, he said, the double curse of ill-health and neglect, and which must end in still deeper misery. She could not forget them, and they woke terrible fears for the future. She told her fears to her children, hoping that they might chase them away as they had chased so many troubles of hers in past years, with playful or loving words, but they knew not what to say, for they too were afraid.
“God is good, and Christ died for us,” repeated Selina many times. “Surely that is enough, mama.”
They read the Testament daily to her still, and Frederica searched it carefully for her sake, bringing to her such sweet words as these:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“For the Son of man came to seek and to save that which was lost.
“God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death! where is thy sting? O grave! where is thy victory? The sting of Death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The clergyman of the church they attended came to see her, and read prayers solemnly and tenderly, and answered the appeal of her anxious eyes with vague words about God’s goodness and compassion, and how He would save all who came to Him. But his words did not comfort her.
“How can I come to Him? I do not know the way.”
“Mama, Jesus is the way—He says it,” said Selina, who never seemed to forget the words she heard.
“But I do not know Him; I have not thought about Him all my life; I have done nothing good, and it is too late now.”
“But the thief on the cross had done nothing good, even to the very last, and yet Jesus says to him, ‘To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise,’” said Selina.
“Yes; let me read it for you,” said Frederica eagerly.
“But he could do nothing, and Mr Jerome says I could give money to clothe the naked and feed the hungry, and that I could give my children to the Church, and then I should be safe. But I never trusted Mr Jerome; I am afraid of him; and yet he may be right.”
“Miss Agnace says something like that too,” said Tessie, “and I think we ought to ask Mr St. Cyr to give some money, if it would set mama’s mind at rest.”
“But it does not say that is the way in the Bible,” said Frederica gravely.
“Yes, it says something like that. Some one was told to sell all his goods to give to the poor. Don’t you remember?”
“But it says, ‘Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory!’” said Selina. “And there must be some people so poor that they have nothing to give Him back.”
“Yes, and in another place He says, ‘I give unto my sheep eternal life,’” said Frederica. “It cannot be that one can buy it.”
“And in another place it says, ‘He that believeth shall be saved,’” said Selina.
The mother’s eyes turned eagerly from one to another. They knew little, but they knew far more than she did about that which she was so anxious to learn.
“Miss Agnace always says I must send for a priest, and confess to him, but my father hated all that, and your father would be very angry.”
“But mama, if it would make you happy, he need not be told,” said Tessie; “and we might send for some one else than Mr St. Cyr’s brother.”
“But that would be giving up what the Bible says; for it does not tell us to confess to priests, or that they can pardon us,” said Frederica.
“It says something, I think,” said Selina, “‘Whosesoever sins ye remit, they shall be remitted.’ Oh, if we only had some one to tell us what we ought to do?”
And was there no one among a whole cityful to tell these children and their mother how they might be saved? Doubtless there were many who would gladly have pointed them to Jesus as the only hope of the sinner, if they had made known their need to such. But it was quite true of those with whom they came in contact, the way was not clear to them.
“I spoke to Caroline about it,” said Frederica, “and she said we must be good, and say our prayers, and go to church, and do our duty always. But there must be some other way; for mama can do nothing now. She cannot even give money, unless Mr St. Cyr is willing; and it would do no good, if she could.”
“Miss Agnace says that she knows a sister who Is very good and wise, and who would gladly teach us. Mama, shall we send for Sister Magdalen?” asked Selina.
But Mrs Vane was less able to say what should or what should not be done, than the youngest child among them. No one sent for Sister Magdalen, unless Miss Agnace did, which was very likely; for she seemed always to know what they wished for, whether they told her or not; but she came. A very different woman she was from Miss Agnace. A thin, dark, thoughtful woman, with a face which was calm now, but which suggested thoughts of troubles passed through, and struggles encountered in past days.
She came to see Miss Agnace at first, or she said so; but she had some beautiful specimens of needlework which she wished the young ladies to see, and while they were admiring it she was speaking gentle and sympathising words to their mother.
She came a good many times after that, and by-and-by she had much to say to them all about the peace and rest that were to be found in the bosom of the true Church, and of the safety and happiness that were to be purchased by the performance of such good works as the Church commanded. She told them how, by penance, and prayer, and the confession of sin, pardon might be obtained, and how, through the intercession of Mary and the saints, they might hope to get safe to heaven.
She was a wiser woman than Miss Agnace, and knew how to put all these things in the fairest light, so as not to startle them. But she was as grieved and indignant as Miss Agnace had been at the pride and self-will of children who ventured to read, and who strove to understand, the Bible for themselves. It was just Miss Agnace’s teaching over again, except that all was more clearly and firmly announced, and more decidedly pressed home, by Sister Magdalen.
If Mrs Vane had been left a little while to her instructions and influence, she might have led her where she would, and induced her, in the hope of finding peace, to give herself altogether into the guidance of those who believe that they have the keys of heaven in their keeping. But her children never left her side when Sister Magdalen was there, and there was no assent in Frederica’s anxious watchful eyes, and Selina was always ready with some word from the Book, which even Sister Magdalen could not but acknowledge was the very word of God. Nor did it avail for her to say that God had other words than were written there, and other ways of teaching those who wished to know His will. If Frederica had learned little else from the Scriptural lessons of Mrs Glencairn and Miss Pardie, she had learned this, that the Bible is the only source of our knowledge of God as the Saviour of sinners, and to distrust all other teaching.
“What you say may be true, I cannot tell, but it is not here in the Gospels. And surely there is all here that is necessary, if we could only understand,” said Frederica gently. And Selina added,—
“I know we are very ignorant; but I do not think it is wrong in us to read and to try to understand God’s Word for ourselves, and I believe God will teach us, and mama too. We will not fear.”
In the meantime Mr Jerome had still been making frequent visits to Mrs Vane’s house, where he made himself very agreeable to the children. Selina’s music progressed rapidly, and she had increasing pleasure in it. The boys and even Tessie welcomed him with the indiscriminating liking which children bestow on those who take pains to please and win them. Frederica said to herself, that this liking and Selina’s progress ought to be sufficient reason for her liking him too. And it might have been so if the priest had been content to treat her as a child.
But she was not a child, and he touched with her on graver matters than a child could comprehend. He was aware of her reading the Bible with her mother and the rest, and of her anxious questionings of Sister Agnace, and her wish to be religious and do right, and he was more than willing to give counsel and direction with regard to these matters. But on these things Frederica would never enter with him. At first she could give no better reason for this, than that “he had not a nice face,” which she acknowledged was a very foolish reason. But afterwards she had a reason which was all-powerful with her: he made her mother unhappy. He spoke softly and soothingly to her, as far as words and manners went: but he never came but he said some words that left her anxious and troubled either for herself or her children. He intimated his belief that she had forsaken the true Church—the Church of her fathers—when she married Mr Vane, and that all her ill-health and unhappiness had come upon her as a punishment for this wrong step. He never said all this to her in words at one time; but he uttered a word now and then, breathed a sigh, spoke a soft regret, or as soft a warning, that left the poor soul never quite at ease. He never spoke thus to her in the presence of her children. Without them there is little doubt that he could easily have bent the poor broken-spirited woman to his will—brought her to repentance and a better mind, he would have called it. But Selina’s gentleness, and Frederica’s sense of her mother’s helplessness and dependence, were a strong defence to their mother. At this time Frederica saw that she was unhappy a good while before she knew that the priest had anything to do with it. When she did know it, she resented it angrily, and told him with more than sufficient warmth, that it was neither kind nor wise of him to come with his hard words and harder judgments, to unsettle and perplex the mind of one so tender and delicate.
“Perhaps you mean it kindly, but it is not real kindness to make poor mama unhappy and afraid. You have your religion, and we have ours. We will not interfere with each other,” said Frederica, with trembling dignity.
“Have you then any religion?” asked the priest. “Because it has been intimated to me that you are in search of one, and know not where it is to be found. Is your mother then happier than you?”
Frederica looked at him in amazement and anger, yet other feelings also were in her heart.
“Mama is good,” said she. “One does not need to be very wise, or to have fine words to offer, in order to be a Christian.”
“And you? are you a Christian, dear?”
“I am not good,” said Frederica humbly; “but I wish to be, and God will teach me, and mama also.”
“And how long will it take you to learn? a year? two years? And the chances are your mother will not live many months. Will it be well with her, do you think, when she shall go away into another world alone?”
Frederica turned upon him a white face and wide-open eyes of horror.
“Yes,” said Selina’s soft voice behind them, “it will be well. God is good, and Christ has died.”
Frederica uttered a glad cry, and clasped her sister in her arms.
“Yes,” said the priest, “God is good, and Christ has died. This is our only hope. But then all these years have you been thinking of this? You have been forgetting God, and even now you are trusting to your own wisdom to find Him. You are refusing counsel. You are walking in your own ways. Oh! poor ignorant erring children, it is because I love you so much, you and your mother, that I dare to make you unhappy by telling you the truth. I would gladly lead you in the right way.”
“Is mama so very ill?” said Frederica, forgetting everything else, in the misery that his words had suggested.
“Do you not see yourselves that she is very ill? Dear children, death is a happy change to those who have the care and blessing of the Church. Death is nothing of which a Christian need be afraid.”
He spoke gently and tenderly, and laid his hand softly on the blind girl’s head; but his eyes were hard and angry, and Frederica shrank from him with a repugnance which she did not try to conceal.
“I would so gladly help you,” said he again. “It is your happiness I seek, and the happiness of your dear mistaken mother.” And in a little he added, “God bless you with humble minds.” And then went silently away.
And he left two very unhappy girls behind him. Could it be that their mother was going to die; and that she had cause to be afraid?
“I never wish to see him again,” said Frederica. “He shall never see mama again, if I can prevent it.”
But her anger went away with the departure of the priest, and now she was very miserable.
“But, Fred, if it is true that we are all wrong, and that mama is going to die before—”
Selina shuddered.
“Selina! God is good, and Christ has died; you said it yourself.”
“Yes, God is good. He will teach us.”
“And He will take care of mama and all of us. And if mama does not go to heaven, I am sure I do not care to go there either,” said Frederica, with a great bout of weeping.
“God is good, and Christ has died,” repeated Selina softly. “He will teach us.”
“But I never wish to see Mr Jerome St. Cyr again,” said Frederica.
But he came again, just as usual, in a day or two. Mr St. Cyr was there with the mother and the children when he came in, and the brothers exchanged looks of surprise at the encounter, for they had never met in Mrs Vane’s house before. Mr St. Cyr looked on with a little amused curiosity to see how his brother would be received.
Very cordially by the young people it seemed, but he noticed a troubled look pass over the face of their mother; and Frederica rose and went over to her sofa, and took her seat beside her, with an air that seemed to say she needed protection, and she was there to give it. Mr Jerome took no notice of the movement, but occupied himself with Selina and her music, and with the little boys, who soon came in.
Mr St. Cyr asked Frederica about her illness, and her employments and amusements, and she told him about Miss Agnace, and how much nicer she was than Mrs Ascot used to be.
“And we all hope she will stay,” said Tessie. “But they don’t usually let the sisters stay long out of their convents. Do you think they will let her stay?” asked Tessie, addressing Mr Jerome. “Fred did not know she was a sister at first, but she found it out from something she said. She is very nice, however, and we all hope she may stay.”
Mr St. Cyr asked no questions about Miss Agnace; but when his brother rose to go, he rose also. He had something to say to him.
“Who is Sister Agnace? and why is she here?” asked he. “It is not wise in you to wish to make any change in Mrs Vane’s family affairs, my brother. You will not succeed.”
“I have succeeded already. Miss Agnace has made a great change for the better in this ill-regulated household, especially in the comfort of Mrs Vane. Your little friend is a clever child, but she cannot be expected to act with sense or judgment in certain affairs. She has not been complaining of Miss Agnace has she?”
“By no means. On the contrary, they seem to value her highly. But who is she? Why is she here?”
“Do you not know! Mr Vane advertised for a housekeeper, and she applied. She has excellent references, and he was fortunate in getting her.”
“Still you have not answered my question. The sisters are not permitted to answer advertisements, and take situations, without some special purpose in view. What was your motive in placing her among these children?”
“A desire to serve them would not seem to you a sufficient motive, I suppose?”
“No,” said Mr St. Cyr, with a shrug, “not in your case. You may wish to serve them, but you have another motive. Who is Sister Agnace?”
“A simple, pious, affectionate creature, just the nurse for a nervous invalid like Mrs Vane. See her, and satisfy yourself with regard to her.”
“I shall do so,” said Mr St. Cyr; “and, my brother, let me say one word to you. Nothing good will come of your trying to gain influence in this house. Mrs Vane has nothing in her power as to the disposal of her father’s wealth. All that is quite beyond her power.”
“Don’t you remember you told me all that long ago? Is it not conceivable that for other reasons I might wish to influence that unhappy woman, who is so near death, and who is so unprepared to meet it? What is her wealth to me, who am not permitted to possess aught beyond the necessaries of life? Why should I wish to influence her, except to turn her thoughts to the God whom she must soon meet, and of whom she knows nothing? And these poor neglected children! Brother Cyprien, it is terrible to me to see you so indifferent to their highest interests, and your own.”
“Let all that pass. What I wish to say is this—No influence that you may bring to bear on her can possibly make any change in the arrangement of her affairs. The guardians of her children’s interests are already chosen by my advice, and with her husband’s consent, and they are such men as will not please you. She might change them, it is true, but she will not without my advice. You have already made her unhappy, I think. It is cruel, and will avail you nothing. This is what I wish you to understand.”
“I clearly understand. You will not see that it is only their good I wish for. They have no religion. They are ignorant of the first principles of truth. These young girls are neither fit for this world nor the next. And St. Hubert’s grandsons are losing the best years of their life, under the foolish teaching of an ignorant woman.”
“That is your opinion,” said Mr St. Cyr coldly. “Well, you are not responsible, and need not interfere. No good can come of it to any one concerned.”
But he had no fault to find with Miss Agnace when he saw her. She was simple and affectionate, and as far as he could judge, faithful. She was eager for the spiritual good of Mrs Vane and her children, and prayed for them, and told them tales of the saints, and of miracles performed by their relics even at the present day. She took the children with her to mass, on high days and holidays, and evidently had full faith in the success of her efforts in their behalf at last. But of all this Mr St. Cyr had no fear. Indeed, he might have rejoiced over the prospect of the spiritual change, for which Sister Agnace and his brother were so anxious, in poor Mrs Vane and her children, provided it were a real change, and that no wrong influence were brought to bear upon them to bring it about.
But though Mr St. Cyr was looked upon as a very religious man, he was far more liberal in his opinions, and charitable in his judgments, than the greater number of those who admired his devotion. It did not seem impossible to him that beyond the pale of his own church there might be truth and safety. He knew that Mr Vane was not a religious man. He gave him no credit for religious motives, or even for conscientious motives, in the care with which, in the education of his daughters, he had tried to keep them away from Roman Catholic influence; and it would have troubled him very little on his account that they should leave their father’s church. He would not have pitied him, but he would have dreaded the pain to them, the discomfort which their father’s anger would bring upon them.
But he was not anxious for them to change. They were good little things, he thought, desirous to do right, and quite as likely to do right by themselves as they would be under such guidance as a change might involve,—such guidance, for instance, as that of his brother Jerome. He did not wish to be hard on his brother, even in his thoughts, but he did not trust him. He did not trust him, either as regarded the means he might use to influence the delicate nervous mother and her children towards a change of faith, or as regarded the end he had in view in desiring such a change.
He cared for their souls, doubtless, and believed them to be in danger, but he cared for something else more. He knew that he coveted some part of the wealth that Mr St. Hubert had left, and which had been accumulating since his death, for his own purposes; that is, for the purposes of the Church; and he feared that he would not be scrupulous as to the means he made use of to obtain it.
So he went oftener to see them than he had been accustomed to do, and assured himself of the good faith of Miss Agnace, and listened to the earnest talk of the sisters, and sometimes even to the reading of the Bible. He was amused sometimes, but oftener he was moved and interested, and in his heart prayed to Him whom he believed to be the God of all who sincerely sought to serve and honour Him, that He might guard, and guide, and keep safe from all evil, these children whom he was learning to love so well.