“It cant be expected that I should turn my house into an hospital, and frighten away customers and—” Mrs. Taylor would have pursued her remarks had she had any listener, but Isa, anxious and troubled in countenance, had drawn her brother into the study.
“Gaspar, Cora is at the ‘Black Bear,’ ill with small-pox. The landlady is going to send her away at once to find a shelter where she may. Oh, were the complaint anything but small-pox, it would seem but common charity to offer her a refuge here!”
“And lay her under obligation; ay, ay, I see—lay her under deepest obligation—I see, I see; the best thing that could possibly be done!” cried Gaspar.
Isa was startled at her brother’s eagerness; her words had been the intuitive expression of the feelings of a generous spirit, but she had not seriously contemplated bringing a small-pox patient into her home. Gaspar saw his sister’s cheek turn pale, and became aware that the step proposed must be attended not only with great personal inconvenience, but serious hazard to his young and beautiful sister. Unlike her brother, Isa had never yet had the malady, and regarded it with considerable dread. It was not only the peril to life, and the minor risk of permanent disfigurement, which made Isa shrink from exposing herself to infection, but the quarantine to which she must be subjected while nursing a patient in small-pox would be, especially at this time, a very serious trial. It would be like a sudden calling back of winter when the blossoms of spring were opening to sweetest fragrance and brightest beauty. Even the dull comfortless days at Wildwaste had been gemmed with some moments of such exquisite happiness as had almost served to brighten the whole; and now must the door be closed against even Edith and Henry Eardley, because it had been opened to receive Cora Madden? Gaspar read strong repugnance to the sacrifice in the expressive countenance of his sister.
“No, no,” he said; “you might take the infection. Miss Madden must try her chance somewhere else.”
“Let me consider for a few moments, Gaspar. Detain the woman, I must ask counsel ere I decide;” and Isa hurriedly sought her own room, to sink on her knees and implore guidance and light on the tangled path opening before her.
There were a few words which Isa had heard from the lips of the vicar of Axe, which she had laid up in her heart for a time of perplexity like this:—“When you are in doubt as to what course to pursue, when reason appears to be lost in a mist, and you cannot clearly discern the narrow path of duty, ask conscience two simple questions,—‘Were my Lord in visible presence here, what would He bid me do? what may I venture to believe that He would have done in my place?’ Such questions, honestly put, and in a spirit of prayer, will draw forth such a reply as will clear off the mist, and be as the voice saying, This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand or to the left.”
Isa obeyed the direction now; bending her head over her clasped hands, with the prayer, “Oh, guide me, Lord, by Thy counsel!” she asked conscience the two simple questions. Familiar words of Scripture recurred to her mind,—Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye also so unto them. What would she desire if, like Cora, she were ill, desolate, and alone, driven from the shelter even of a miserable wayside inn, and sent to seek from house to house a place in which to lay—perchance a dying head? And what would have been the conduct of the Merciful One towards such a sufferer, however erring, however guilty? Would He have paused to consider whether she were a foe or a friend? Christ pleased not Himself, and He hath left an example that we should follow His steps.
Isa rose from her knees, and calling the servant, whom she heard spreading the breakfast in the adjoining apartment, she at once gave orders for preparing for the reception of a lady ill of small-pox. Isa would give up her own sleeping-room to Cora, and have Lottie’s little pallet-bed placed in the boudoir for herself. Leaving Hannah wondering and grumbling, Isa returned to her brother and informed him of her decision. Gaspar, glad that it was such as might further his own selfish interests, sent off Mrs. Taylor to make arrangements for Cora’s removal to Wildwaste Lodge.
Isa had won another silent victory over the Midianites within, over Selfishness, Vanity, and Fear. One sacrifice had given her strength for another. Under the influence of that faith which worketh by love, Isa made every preparation for the comfort of Cora that she could have made for that of a cherished sister, giving her own efforts to make up for the shortness of time and the incapacity or unwillingness of her servant. Not more than half an hour elapsed before a chaise drove up to the door, where Isa Gritton stood ready to welcome Cora Madden. The driver feared to help out the invalid, who—swathed in blankets, a miserable, disfigured object—would have been forced to descend without aid, and drag her tottering limbs into the house, had not Isa’s hands been stretched out to support—had not Isa’s slight arm been thrown gently around her. Cora crossed the threshold, and feebly walked up the staircase, resting upon the woman whose peace she for a time had blighted, whose prospects she had done her utmost to destroy! Self-denying kindness may be shown to a friend from natural affection—to a stranger from intuitive pity; but when shown to a bitter enemy, it is one of the strongest proofs that the love of Christ which constraineth hath been shed abroad in the heart.