“There are some things which even mamma says are quite lawful to be done on Sundays, such as charitable works. Mamma herself dressed the cook’s scalded arm upon a Sunday, and put in a stitch or two to keep the bandages firm. That was surely sewing on a Sunday, but then that was a work of charity. Well, but mine is a work of charity, too.” Thus Dora went on, while the dangerous current of inclination was gradually drifting her on towards breaking in act the Fourth Commandment, which she had all day long been breaking in thought. “Our Tabernacle is to be the model of a holy—a very holy thing, just the kind of a thing which it is right to think about on Sunday. Then it is to be made for a very charitable purpose. I am sure that bandaging the cook’s arm is no better work than helping a ragged school; I don’t think that it is really as good, for aunt’s poor little pupils are taught to love God and read the Bible. No, it surely cannot be wrong to assist such an excellent work on any day in the seven.”
Dora unrolled a length of blue silk, took out a needle and threaded it. She had almost succeeded in silencing conscience, at least for a time; she had almost persuaded herself that in amusing herself she was helping a holy cause; and that God would not be displeased at her breaking His commandment, because she was going to work for the poor. There is, perhaps, no more dangerous error than to think that the end justifies the means—that it is lawful to a Christian to do evil that good may come. Oh, dear young reader! if you ever find yourself trying to quiet conscience by the thought that to do a great good you may do a little harm, start back as if you caught sight of the tail of a snake in your path! Yes, for the serpent who deceived Eve is trying to deceive you also. If Dora had been honest and candid with herself, she would have seen, as her fingers busily plied the needle, that she was really working for her own pleasure; that her embroidering a piece of linen was an utterly different thing from her mother’s bandaging a badly-scalded arm, and relieving a sufferer’s pain. To cases of necessity such as that, the Saviour’s words truly applied—“It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath-day;” but there was nothing to justify Dora in following her own inclination, and working on the day appointed for holy worship and rest.
If there was really no harm in what she was doing, why was it that Dora started so when she heard her mother’s voice at the door of the study, and why did she so hurriedly thrust linen, pattern, and silks back into the workbox as her gentle parent entered the room?
Dora’s back was turned towards the door, so that, from her being between it and the table, Mrs. Temple could not see the cause of the little bustling movement which she noticed on coming into the study.
“What are you doing, my love?” asked the lady.
“Nothing,” answered Dora quickly, as she succeeded in shutting down the lid of her workbox. The word was uttered in haste, without reflection; but the instant after it had passed her lips a pang shot through the young girl’s heart, for she was aware that, perhaps for the first time in her life, she had uttered a downright falsehood. Conscience could be silenced no longer; the second sin into which Dora had been drawn by her fear showed her in a strong light the nature of the first, into which she had been drawn by her love of amusement. If she had not been doing what was wrong, she would not have been afraid lest her occupation should be found out by her tender, indulgent mother.
Mrs. Temple never doubted the word of one of her children, but she could not help thinking that the manner of Dora was strange, and she would probably have inquired further into its cause, had she not just then been followed into the study by Lucius. The boy had his Bible in his hand, and a thoughtful, perplexed look on his face, which at once fixed the attention of Mrs. Temple. Dora was glad that her mother’s attention should be drawn by anything from herself, for otherwise she could not have hidden her confusion. She seated herself on a stool by the window, with her face turned away from her parent, and there remained a silent listener to the following conversation between Mrs. Temple and her son. Whether that conversation was likely to make Dora’s conscience easier or not, I leave the reader to judge.
