“See her! hear her!” he said; “always depreciating herself and exalting others. If ever there was a pattern, Mrs. Judson, a pattern,—well, my dear, I forbear; the blushes on that cheek shall always be sacred to your husband. I forbear.”
Here Mr. Brown waved his handkerchief twice while lifting it to his face, and retreated gracefully, walking backward.
“Ah!” whimpered Mrs. Green, “it would be such a pleasure to witness a scene like this but for the memories it brings. There was a time when I, even I,—but the thought is too much, excuse me.”
Here the little woman drew a tiny handkerchief from her pocket; but as neither of the ladies seemed much impressed, thought better of it, and did not cry at all. If Mr. Brown had remained, perhaps it might have been otherwise.
“Private griefs, however acute, must give way to public duties. Mrs. Judson, you will never believe how many thousands and thousands of tracts I have delivered from door to door when my heart was swelling with anguish. It was a relief; yes, I must confess, it was a relief.”
Mrs. Green unfolded her little handkerchief, and shook it out as if she still meditated a few tears; but Mrs. Brown took her up with such vigor that she forgot all about it.
“You are right; such duties are a relief. But when you have money to raise, applications for help crowding on you, obligations to take up, in short, when you are called upon to accomplish a great work with insufficient means, as I was about to explain to Mrs. Judson, there is great need of Christian fortitude to carry one through.”
“But I do have such trouble, madam,” answered Mrs. Green, firing up in behalf of her especial mission. “You don’t suppose that tracts are printed without money. Why, this moment our Society is in debt, kept back from entire usefulness, for the want of means; we are poor, absolutely poor; but for the generous aid we expect from this charity ball of which Mrs. Judson is a patroness, and, I must say, an ornament, we should have been dreadfully crippled.”
Here Mrs. Brown seated herself and used her fan with emphasis.
“Really,” she said, looking at Mrs. Judson, “the cause of the Lord is beset with difficulties. It seems to me that every society in New York, chartered or private, is coming upon us. At this rate, fifty balls would hardly count. I am discouraged.”