Rathfelder's Hotel

by Annie E. Bosworth

Three years came and went after the foregoing visit to Rathfelder's Hotel and the consequent events I have recorded. Painful as the nature of those events was, I then saw that they were blessings productive of eternal good to Charlotte and me. To our great joy and comfort, dear Aunt Rossiter's health continued slowly to improve, but the feelings awakened in my heart and soul when first I learned how perilously in the midst of life she was in death never passed away. And good for me it was they did not—good in every way, as regarded this world and the next, making me more thoughtful, considerate and excusing toward those whom I loved, for, ah me! had I not learned that we know not what shall be on the morrow? "For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." And as for dear Charlotte, the death of Blurdon and all the circumstances attending it had left so deep an impression on her mind that even time was powerless to efface it. This influence cannot but be regarded as a divine interposition in her favour; for she confessed to me that at that period her soul was in a dangerously rebellious state against the all-wise, all-merciful Creator. When the truth suddenly flashed upon her soul she was terrified exceedingly, she said, and began from that hour to think as she had never thought before, and to resolve—yes, to resolve to live a new life.

"You see, Mechie," she added, "it was not of course that I thought I could live such a life as that poor creature did, or come to such an awful end, but there are few things which vary more than the ways of sin, or are more skilfully and amiably accommodating to every style of character; and therefore, while Blurdon took his course as it were down the hill of perdition, running, jumping, rolling, tumbling headforemost, I more slowly, less desperately, but equally surely, might even now have been pursuing one of its many flower-decked paths to ruin—quite as certainly in my way as that unhappy man in his."

And oh what an improved being darling Lotty has become! Old Susan used to say that heartfelt holiness made people a deal comelier, and I am sure it was so with Lotty when she put on that most adorning of all robes, the compassionate, self-sacrificing, humble religion of the merciful Redeemer. Instead of living solely to please herself and looking as though she did—a look which no device, no assumed good-nature can conceal or change the character of—she now endeavoured earnestly to obey the divine injunction: "In lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than himself," and, "Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." The result was she seemed daily to become more and more all that is really beautiful and admirable in woman, and her handsome face, no longer marred by its former expression of selfishness and thoughtless levity, wore now a sweet, kindly gravity and care for the happiness and welfare of her fellow-creatures.

"What a very engaging-looking girl that eldest Miss Marlow has become!" a gentleman observed to another, one evening, when Charlotte and I were at a party in a friend's house. "I didn't think much of her a couple of years ago, but latterly she has bloomed out wonderfully. Her whole expression is altered. There used to be a vacancy, a want of something rather than the positive presence of anything defective in her countenance and manner, but that is quite gone now, and she looks sensible, thoughtful, and, it strikes me, in some way much more amiable."

"Yes, decidedly," rejoined his companion. "And now let me tell you, Hedding, that in your observations you have unwittingly admitted more in favour of the power of Christianity than you supposed."

"In favour of Christianity? What has that to do with Miss Marlow's improved looks?" exclaimed the other, scornfully.

"All—everything," was the unhesitating answer. "I am, as you know, an old and intimate friend of the Rossiters, and have known the two Marlow girls since first they came to the Cape. There do not exist in the wide world more truly worthy, kind-hearted people than the Rossiters, but I could not help sometimes thinking that their management of the eldest girl was a mistaken one. She was to the last degree self-willed, pleasure-loving, and intensely selfish. Now, instead of enforcing a different line of conduct, they employed persuasion only, founded on good instruction—a mode of treatment which, while perfectly successful with the more pliable nature of the younger child, quite failed, so it seemed to me, in the case of the elder. Yet possibly they were right. Other circumstances have since occurred which have laid fast hold of her mind and heart, and the good seed they have sown has sprung up in an abundant harvest." Then followed a brief account of what I have related.

"But how do I know, or how can you be sure, that the change I see is the result of what you describe?" objected Mr. Hedding in a cynical tone. He was a man of infidel principles, and, for that reason, not an intimate visitor at Fern Bank.

"I am myself a case of 'proof positive,'" replied Mr. Frere, with his usual imperturbable good humour. "More than two years ago, as you know," he continued, his voice failing, "I lost one to whom I was deeply attached—my wife. While under the influence of this heavy affliction my society, although every friend pitied me, was but little desired or sought after. I was only a cloud on their pleasures and naturally shunned by them as such, or, if not absolutely shunned, at least neglected or set aside for the time being as quite a useless member of society. But not so by the Rossiters—no. The very reason that rendered me unacceptable to the world made those truly Christian people take me at once to their hearts, and I may say to their home, for from that time, for nearly six months, I dined with them and spent almost every evening at their house. Now, see the difference between the two sisters, Charlotte and Maria Marlow. Mechie, who is a counterpart of her amiable benefactors, eagerly and warmly seconded their kind endeavours to draw me out of myself, and in her gentle way led me to submit more patiently to my sudden great sorrow. Charlotte, on the contrary, although she without doubt compassionated my case, evidently regarded my frequent presence in the house as oppressive and disagreeable, and avoided my society as much as she could. She generally kept apart with some young friend, of whom she had many, and often I only saw her at the meal-times. At last came the change in her feelings which, acting upon her whole nature, has by degrees wrought that marked effect in her appearance which excites your admiration so much, and then neither Mrs. Rossiter nor sweet Mechie was kinder or more thoughtful and considerate to me and others than she became. No longer seeking only her own gratification, she would remain with us of an evening, adding greatly to our cheerfulness by her pleasant conversation—for Charlotte is naturally endowed with very good sense and with a vein of quaint humour—and often lightened the time by reading aloud, an accomplishment this piquant talent makes her perfect in.