But the time passed on, and Uncle James—while yet the other little ones were engaged in a merry game, chasing each other throughout all the house, from the glowing kitchen, clean and bright, up to the nursery where old Ailie presided in full state and glory—must go. Elizabeth was unwell; and he felt it was not seemly to be from home, loth and reluctant as he was to leave that fireside and its loving circle. So Uncle James prepared to go home; and down rushed again the whole merry band, deserted Ailie, even in the midst of one of her old-world stories, to bid him good-night; and thus environed by the little host with shouts as loud as had welcomed his arrival, Uncle James went away home.
CHAPTER II.
Men rail upon the Change!
* * * * *
But think they as they speak?
Thou softener of earth’s pain,
Oh Change! sweet gift of the Infinite to the weak,
We hail alike thy sunshine and thy rain;
Awe dwells supreme in yon eternal light,
Horror in misery’s doom;
But frail humanity dares breathe, when bright
Thy tremulous radiance mingles with the gloom.—Y.S.P.
NCLE JAMES has just gone, and the group of elders in the parlour are just drawing their chairs closer together to fill up the gap which his departure has made, when they hear a hasty knock at the door; a hasty, imperative summons, as if from urgent need that would not be denied access, and a dripping messenger stands on the threshold—for the cold rain of winter falls heavily without—begging that Mr. Melville would go with him to see a dying man, a stranger who has taken up his residence for the last few weeks at a small inn in the neighbourhood, and was now, apparently, on the very brink of death, and in a dreadful state of mind. The calls of the sick and dying were as God’s special commands to Halbert; and he rose at once to accompany the messenger, though the faces of his wife and sisters twain, darkened with care as he did so. It was very hard that he should be called away from them on this especial night; and when he firmly declared he would go, Mary whispered to Charles to go with him, and to bring him soon back. The two brothers went away through the storm, and the sisters drew closer to each other round the fire, as the gentlemen left them; then Mrs. Melville told the others how anxious she always was when her husband was called out in this way; how he might be exposed to infection in his visiting of the sick so assiduously as he did; and how, for his health’s sake, she could almost wish he were less faithful and steady in the discharge of these his duties: and Mary looked at her in alarm as she spoke, and turned pale, and half upbraided herself for having unnecessarily exposed Charles, though a more generous feeling speedily suppressed her momentary selfishness. But Christian was by, and when was selfishness of thought, or an unbelieving fear harboured in Christian’s gentle presence?
“Mary! Mary!” she exclaimed, as she turned from one to the other, “are you afraid to trust them in the hands of your Father? They are but doing what is their duty, and He will shield His own from all evil. Would you have your husband, Mary Melville, like these ministers whose whole work is their sermons—alas! there are many such—and who never try, whether visiting the sick and dying, or the vicious and criminal, would not advance their Master’s cause as well—would you that, rather than Halbert’s going forth as he has done to-night?”
“No, no; but it is terrible for me to think that he is exposed to all kinds of contagion; that he must go to fevers, and plagues, and diseases that I cannot name nor number, and run continually such fearful risks,” said Mary, energetically.
“Our Father who is in Heaven, will protect him,” said Christian, solemnly. “I have heard of a minister in London, who never for years ever thinks of seeing after his own people in their own homes; it is too much labour, forsooth, he is only their preacher, not their pastor; and though he sends—Reverend Doctor that he is—his deacons and such like to visit; it’s seldom that himself ever goes to a poor sick bed, and as to his trying to reclaim the vicious, there is not on his individual part the least attempt or effort. Now, Mary, would you have Halbert such a man as that?”