There were excuses for these people, no doubt, for Hemsborough was, as concerned religion, a very sleepy place. Yet they all went to church or chapel at least once every Sunday—even Mrs. Lydia did so: it was a nice quiet place for thinking over her plans. Even poor Fred, though he had aspirations and a mind, and wrote poetry and played the flute, never dreamed of questioning the usefulness of going to church: his mind did not take an independent turn.
Fred, being no longer a boy, was becoming just as anxious as any one to make money, live comfortably, and provide well for his children. The misfortune was that this wish, instead of making him work hard and find pleasure in it, made him discontented and anxious to find some short cut to fortune. He found it very galling that he was not as completely manager of the brewery as his father had been, forgetting that if such a manager as his father had been wanted, he would not have got the situation. Mr. Frank Hopper was very kind and pleasant, but he was distinctly the master; and although Fred was flattered by his friendly manner, and much pleased when he offered to be godfather to his first boy—the eldest child was a girl—still, he felt that he was only a kind of head clerk, or foreman, instead of managing the business himself, and he resented this in private.
I wonder how often "lead me not into temptation" means "give me grace to be contented"? Certainly a discontented man is a man peculiarly open to temptation. And it came to Fred through his stepmother. I do not know exactly how he discovered that she was using her money, her "insignificant little sum of money," as she called it when he spoke to her, in speculating. He warned her that she was running a risk. She assured him that she ran no risk, and that she had really increased her store "a little." But she never mentioned to him her brother, the stockbroker's clerk.
Not unnaturally Fred began to think that if a woman like his stepmother could make money in this way, he could no doubt do very much better. There was a rule in the firm that no employé should speculate, on pain of dismissal. But, then, no one need ever know! So Fred Rayburn set out gaily on the road to ruin.
When he had been married for some years, a great grief befell him and Janet. They had three children, a girl and two boys, and they all three got the measles, and the little girl died. Little Frank and the baby, Fred, recovered. Frank was a very loving little fellow, and long after they hoped he would have forgotten his playfellow, he would begin to cry at the sight of some toy or picture which reminded him of her, and his words:
"Where is Lily? Oh, I want Lily," went to his mother's heart.
At first, Janet tried to turn his thoughts into some other channel; but Frank still "wanted Lily," and at last Janet began to comfort him by telling him that Lily had gone to heaven, and was very happy—every one was happy there.
"Who takes care of her, muddie?"
"God, my dear."
"Does He love her?"