Upon poor Valentine's silent, deadly struggle, none but the pitying eye of our Father looked. And nothing but a miracle could have averted its final and fatal issue; and miracles are not wrought at the expense of moral free agency. There came at last a day—an awful day—when the boy spoke, and others heard, of that fell struggle with the powers of darkness.
But we anticipate. The dark and trying seasons were relieved by brighter ones, alternating like night and day.
The hours spent with Fannie, either in the gay, lighted shop, among a thousand objects of taste and beauty, and occupations shared with her, and congenial to his own æsthetic fancy, or in their little home, that, despite of poverty, Fannie's taste had made beautiful, were seasons of unclouded happiness, in which all care was forgotten.
There were sunny hours, also, when Mr. Waring's better nature was in the ascendant; when he would feel like gratifying his own benevolence, and making Valentine happy, by fair promises of making him free; of setting him and Fannie up in the hair-dressing and fancy business, which he would laughingly declare to be exactly suited to Valentine; that Val could be the barber, and Fan the ladies' hair-dresser; and that they could have a nice little house in an eligible street, with the dwelling above, and the shop below. Thus he would talk, indulging his good humor at the small expense of his breath, and amusing himself with noticing the effect of his words upon Valentine's sensitive nature, playing upon its chords of hope and fear, as if his heart had been a harp, and his own the experimenting hand that tried its strings. Perhaps he intended to realize, at some future day, these expectations that he raised; at least, at the time of speaking he wished to please the boy by infusing a hope; but, alas! he only disturbed him, by exciting and aggravating his old passionate aspiration after liberty.
But, besides those happiest hours spent with Fannie, there were other seasons of forgetfulness, and of almost unalloyed bliss. These were the Sabbath services and the weekly meetings, where the ardent, zealous soul of the young man found its expression in eloquence that reached the hearts of all who heard him, either in exhortation or in prayer.
He was very much beloved by the brethren, and especially by the sisters, of the Magnolia Grove Mission.
There was, however, two or three among the class-leaders who objected to Valentine as being too much given to the vanities of this world, and who found great stumbling blocks in Valley's shining, black ringlets, and neat and even elegant dress. But as the fiend really did contrive to find his way into sinless Eden, so jealousy might possibly have crept into a "love feast" among Christian brethren and sisters; and Valentine's beauty, grace, eloquence and consequent pre-eminence, among the men, and popularity with the women, might have been the true ground of offense to his less gifted brothers.
However that might be, Valentine, perceiving only the ostensible matter of complaint, half resolved to give up his taste in dress and sacrifice his cherished ringlets, and seriously consulted Fannie upon the subject.
But Fannie would not listen to such a proposition with a moment's favor, and said that brother Portiphar and some of the others had such a grudge against beauty that they would turn all the Lord's fair roses and lilies into lobelia and rue, if they could. And Fannie's single opinion and vote outweighed all the others, and Valentine's hyperion curls continued to be an offense in Israel.
Thus passed the winter and spring. This first half year, with all its shadows, was yet the fairest portion of the young pair's married life. Toward its close clouds began to gather darkly and threateningly over their heads.