"Have you spoken to George about these things?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am, and he just laughed at me, said I was a great deal too particular, and it was likely when a man had no settled home and no wife to make him comfortable, that he would want a little amusement. He 'was sowing his few wild oats now, and after he was married—.' When he spoke like this, I put in my word, and said a few grains often brought a large crop, and I did not want to have the reaping of it in sorrow; but he just laughed again, and told me to give notice, and then we would be married at the month's end."
"And is that what you have decided to do, Martha?"
"No, ma'am. I opened God's Word, for somehow it has a message for everybody and every time, and I read this verse, 'Can two walk together except they be agreed?' And I said—'No,' out loud, just as if I were answering a question that some person had asked me; for I had never noticed that verse before, and I did feel it was for me. I had not gone down on my knees to ask for guidance, but I did wish to see what was the right thing to do; and I know when my Lord and Master was here on earth, He used to answer people's thoughts. And now, ma'am, will you read this letter before I send it, and tell me what you think? Have I done right?"
"Certainly, Martha," I said, "and I rejoice to find that you go to the best of all sources, the Bible, for guidance."
I read the letter which Martha had written to George, and in which she announced her intention of remaining in her situation and of setting him free from his engagement. Poor girl! I knew what the writing of that letter must have cost her. How I sympathised with the brave heart, the Christian firmness, which made her resolve to give up her affianced husband—not because she did not love him, but because he did not love God.
"Martha," I said, "if George is worthy of your affections, your letter will not be long unanswered."
"I can leave myself in God's hands," she said; "but I have another trouble. My sister is young and pretty, and she is taken up with one who is far worse than George, for he makes game of people who even profess to be religious, and he is neither steady nor temperate. Will you try to persuade her to give him up? She is almost like a daughter as well as sister to me, for mother died when she was only five, and I took care of her for years till father married again."
I promised Martha to use my influence with Jessie, and I did all in my power, but in vain. Pretty foolish Jessie married a worthless, idle spendthrift, in defiance of tears, entreaties, and advice. And,—alas!—still reaps the fruit of her self-will in the companionship of a drunkard, amid poverty and perpetual domestic strife.
George did not answer Martha's letter. His family had always been against his marriage with her, because she was a servant and they were small tradespeople. So they encouraged him when he expressed his determination not to eat humble pie, and told him "there were as good fish left in the sea as any that had been taken out."