"The only son of his mother, and she was a widow,—" Arthur Bernard, as he attained to manhood, seemed to realize, in person and character, all a fond mother's fondest anticipations. His stately form, as he mingled among his compeers, did not tower more above them, than did his lofty mind, stored with sound principles, and embellished with varied learning, seem to soar above their grovelling ideas, and to breathe a higher and purer atmosphere. A glance at his countenance would have sufficed for the most casual observer to have read, in every lineament, the impress of a noble and chivalrous nature. Yes, gentle reader, start not at the word chivalrous. It may be, from his previous conversation on woman's foibles, that you have been, ready to form a very different opinion,—but you are mistaken; and so will you often find yourself in the journey of life, should you thus estimate character in general. Deceit frequently lurks beneath the smile and honeyed words of the flatterers, and he who believes that the avenues to woman's heart are only accessible by such means, proves, beyond a doubt, that he has associated with none but the frivolous, the vain and weak-minded of the sex. Poor, indeed, is that compliment which man pays to woman, when he expatiates on her sparkling eyes, her flowing tresses, and ruby lips, as though she were only a beautifully fashioned creature of clay, while he virtually ignores the existence of those higher and holier powers which she shares in common with man, and which make her, in proportion to their wise and careful development, akin to the angels.
Arthur Bernard was no flatterer, it is true, but chivalrous in every sense of the word. A keen appreciator of all that is honorable and high-minded, he could not stoop to those petty meanesses, which too often characterize the conduct of those who flatter themselves with the name of gentleman,—a title which Tennyson forcibly describes as
"Usurped by every charlatan,
And soiled with all ignoble use."
Courage to meet any emergency, firmness to resist temptation when presented in its most alluring form, was blended with that genuine kindness of manner, that deference towards the weak and defenceless, which renders its fortunate possessor not only esteemed, but beloved. Yet with so much that was admirable in mind and heart, of him it might be said, as it was of one of old, "One thing thou lackest." Strange, that the subject of the greatest importance should be, too often, the one most seldom dwelt on, too frequently thrust aside, until, in the season of affliction and the hour of death, its terrible magnitude is first realized—realized, perhaps, forever too late. Regular in his attendance on all the ordinances of worship, his heart had remained unaffected; but this indifference was owing, it may be, in a measure, to the discourses to which he was in the habit of listening from Sabbath to Sabbath,—discourses which, while they portrayed in fairest colors the beauty of a moral life, seemed to forget the natural depravity of the human heart, and the necessity of the mind being fully renewed, in order that it might carry those principles into effect.
Mrs. Bernard, though a devoted mother, and, in many respects, an excellent woman, had never realized, for herself, "the blessedness of things unseen." She had been contented to sail smoothly along the stream of life, which for the most part had been ruffled by few storms, and she almost forgot, as day after day and week after week glided past, they were bearing her frail bark swiftly on to the ocean of eternity. There was a time,—it seemed to her now like a dream as she looked back,—that she had thought more of these things, for they were presented to her in a living form, embracing, as it were, in the daily walk and conversation of a relative, who had been for some time an inmate of her dwelling. The lovely traits developed in the character of this lady, had won the matron's heart, and especially had she appreciated the unbounded care and tenderness which her friend exercised towards her children, Ella and Arthur. But this messenger of peace passed away to a brighter clime, and the impression made by her brief sojourn seemed to have become erased from the memory; like the morning cloud and the early dew, it soon passed away. Yet was she not altogether forgotten, nor had her labors of love been entirely in vain. To her it was that Arthur had alluded in his conversation with Miss Wiltshire, for childhood's heart is tender and impressible, and from her instructions he had imbided many of those lofty and noble sentiments which now characterized him; and often, when the tide of worldliness rushed in to bear him away on its fierce current, that gentle form would seem to stand before him, and he would hear again, in fancy, the soft tones of that voice, beseeching him to pause, and consider his doings.
Oh, woman, woman, how potent is thy influence, which thou exercisest, in thy apparently limited sphere, over the human race. Thy tender hand moulds the plastic mind of childhood; thy gentle rebuke checks the wayward impulses of impetuous youth; thy loving sympathy and voice counsel, cheer, and stimulate manhood; and to thee age and infirmity look up with confidence and delight, assured that thy unwearied care will not be wanting to smooth their passage to the tomb. Blessed office! High and holy ministration! Well, indeed, for mankind, if woman were but truly alive to the onerous duties and responsibilities that devolve upon her; well for her, and those by whom she is surrounded, if instead of being as, alas, she too often is, the encourager of man in evil, she would ever prove the supporter and upholder of that which is good, and by her example and persuasion,
"Allure to brighter worlds, and lead the way."
Arthur Bernard on leaving college had spent some years in travelling through Europe, and had but just returned when our story commences. Left in affluent circumstances at the death of his father, which had taken place while he was yet a child, there was little necessity for exertion; but of an active and energetic disposition, he could not remain comparatively unemployed; and obtaining a situation in one of the principal banks in the city, he devoted the income, acquired by it, to aid in the diffusion of useful knowledge among his fellow-townsmen, and for the alleviation of the wants of the helpless and distressed, for never did the needy apply to him in vain. He looked not with a captious eye upon their faults and follies,—did not harshly repel them because sin had, in many instances, led to their distress, but first relieving their bodily necessities, strove, by wise counsel, kindly administered, to raise the fallen, cheer the hopeless, and assist the outcast and degraded in retrieving their position, and again becoming useful members of society.
Ella, his sister, a light-hearted girl of eighteen, over whose fair head prosperity had hitherto scattered its richest blossoms, resembled her brother in kindness of disposition; but her gay and volatile temper formed a charming contrast to his grave and subdued manner. Five years her elder, Arthur's brotherly affection was mingled with an air of almost fatherly protection; and to him, next to her mother, she had been in the habit of appealing, and never in vain, for advice and assistance in any emergency; and while his gravity checked, in some measure, the mirth which might have degenerated into frivolity, her light-heartedness, in its turn, exercised a wholesome influence over him, and, like the gentle breeze, scattered the clouds which sometimes brooded darkly over his spirit.
But the declaration of Sacred Writ is, "One event happeneth to all." None, as they beheld that united and happy family, the centre of a numerous circle of friends, admired and beloved in the community, imagined the change which was so soon to "come o'er the spirit of their dream."