The great strength, the great vitality of her sorrow, was the thought of Archer Clifton. Could she have hoped for a reconciliation with him, however distant, all else might have been borne. But with that death’s head of hers, such joy might never be hoped—ought never to be wished. No, she was as the leper, set apart from human love—at least from conjugal and maternal love—forever and forever! This was hard—this was well nigh intolerable!
She would no more grace the saloon with her surpassing loveliness—the pride of her family—the ornament of their house. Her heart would no more swell with exultation, when, on entering the drawing-room, in the full glory of her peerless beauty, she would hear a murmur of admiration pass through the company. No. If she should ever enter a saloon again, she would make a tremendous sensation, truly—but it would be one of astonishment, pity, and perhaps disgust. And that thought was dreadful, dreadful to the proud young belle! But oh! it was as nothing to the feeling that her household gods were broken and ruined forever—that her hopes of domestic happiness were gone forever! For underneath all the pride and vanity and scorn of the young belle had been the woman’s thought, the woman’s hope of the coming long, calm days of wife and mother joy. Yea, as surely as under the burnished satin boddice had beat the heart of flesh! But all these were over now; the proud, vain aspirations of the belle, and the woman’s deeper, purer hopes! Both crushed by one fell blow! All was lost in the world! Nothing was left but Heaven!
“If God would take
A heart that earth had crushed.”
Many are driven by the storms of life to the Heavenly Father’s bosom. It is for this that the tempests of sorrow are sent, and the sooner that Divine sanctuary is sought, the better, for hard and harder will beat the storm until its end is answered. And too often all is lost, or seems lost, before we consent to save ourselves. With Carolyn, all the treasures of her youth were gone,—health and beauty, love and hope. Something like this she breathed to Catherine, in a weak, despairing mood,—for only in a miserably depressed state of mind and body would the proud girl deign to complain.
“Dear lady, do not say so sadly that ‘all is lost—forever lost.’ Dear lady, nothing is ever lost. It is impossible. The Lord, in His Divine Wisdom, may withdraw His gifts, but they are not lost—they have gone into His keeping.”
“I do not comprehend you! My poor good looks, such as they were, are surely gone forever. Nothing can restore them! And oh, Catherine! you do not know—you cannot understand all the blessings, the hope, and the joy of my life fled forever! You are a child—you do not understand it!”
“Perhaps I do not, lady, and perhaps I do! Seek all that you have lost in God! He has withdrawn His gifts, your treasures, that He may draw you to Himself! They are safe in His treasure house. If you have lost the beauty of the fair roseate complexion, He can endow you with a higher beauty, emanating from the soul. If you have lost human love, He can satisfy your soul with the richness and fullness of Divine love that never faileth! And for your broken earthly hopes, He can give you the Heavenly hope that never dieth.”
“Oh! but it is the lost earthly hope, personal beauty and human love, that were so dear to me! So dear to me!” exclaimed the poor girl, bursting into a passion of tears.
“And He can restore even those! ‘But seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and all these things shall be added to you.’”