CHAPTER XXVI.
LIVING FOR OTHERS.
“Mother,” said Hesper one day, after sitting in thoughtful silence for some time, “I feel that I must leave home and be doing something decided and useful, or my energies will all rust out in idleness. I have a good opportunity, too, and I think I ought to improve it. Dr. Smiley informs me that a teacher is wanting in the Institution for the Blind, and he says he will secure me the situation at once, if I desire it.”
“Dear me!” said her mother, “I hardly know how we can do without you, my child. That is, without your company, for it is true, that while your father is doing so well, and I have my health, that we really do not need you. But then I dread to have you go out into the great world, for it is cruel and cold, and has many sorrows for a young and tender heart like yours.”
“And that is one great reason why I wish to go, mother, for I desire to pass through the furnace, that I may come out strong and pure at last. I am ready for all things but idleness, that alone burdens my spirit, and leaves me to weep over sorrows that I cannot cure.”
“Well child,” said her mother. “I think you are right. Act as your heart dictates, and have no fear for the result.”
It was only a few weeks after this, that Hesper gave her parting kiss to her friends, and stepping into the stage coach, bade her home farewell for the first time. She felt like a lone bird cast out upon the world, but the strong purpose in her heart sustained her, and she entered upon the duties of her responsible position without fear. At first, with her home sickness and heart sickness, it was a hard struggle, and she feared she should sink beneath it, but she persevered, and gradually her new employment became to her a matter of all-absorbing interest.
The little blind children came with their soft hands and gentle touch, and traced out feature by feature of her face, that they might form a picture in their minds, of her they had learned to love so well. They were soon able to distinguish her footsteps from all others, and her voice seemed like music to their ears. Her sympathy became a necessary thing to the happiness of these youthful unfortunates, and her name was an oft repeated word in their prayers. Gradually the peace that passeth all understanding found an abiding place in her soul, and diffused its serene light over her whole countenance. There was something indescribable in her mien and manner, which drew all hearts after her, and Hesper Greyson, with her meekness and humility, became at length what she had earnestly desired to be:—“A high, pure star, to herald on the weary to the land of rest.” She had learned to live above self, and had consecrated all her powers, without reserve, to the service of others. For one whole year she devoted herself most faithfully to the performance of her duties at the Institution, only accepting, at long intervals, the privilege of a few days to look in upon the loved ones at home. At the end of this year, however, she was to have a vacation of some two or three weeks. She had received intelligence that Mose had arrived, and also during her stay at home, he and Alice were to unite their destinies for life, therefore she looked forward with no slight interest to this interval of rest. She also determined, that upon her way home, she would pass through the city, and spend one night with her old friends, Harry and Juliana, for they had left home shortly after their marriage, and she had not seen them since—indeed, had only heard from them, except by an occasional letter from Juliana, in which she besought Hesper most earnestly to come and make her a visit.
It was an affecting scene to look upon, when the little blind children gathered around her, as she stood in the hall, ready for her departure. Some clasped their loving arms about her, and imprinted warm kisses of farewell upon her cheeks, while others “fell upon her neck and wept sore,” as if their sorrow-stricken hearts already had a presentiment that their beloved teacher would return to them no more.