Mr. Ryder our excellent minister, Dr. Goodhue our physician, and Mr. Reed, a thin, pale young man, who edited the Woodbury Chronicle, were all of opinion that Mr. Lester had good reasons for staying at home, and the rest of us were satisfied to adopt their belief, though we felt that he had lost a glorious opportunity of becoming a hero.
Before leaving, Miss Letty informed me in confidence that the new family were to be invited to the meeting of the Soldiers’ Aid Society at Mrs. Atlee’s, and that then we should know whether they sympathized with the government, or were at heart secessionists.
“Not that I think there’s any doubt about it,” she said; “for if they had liked the rebellion, they could have staid there, you know. But it’s always best to have things clear, and it’s hard to satisfy some people.”
This was a fact which could not be denied, even in our neighborhood, and I contented myself with inquiring if any one besides Mr. Ryder had seen the Fentons.
“I don’t know, but I had my thoughts about it, when I saw Mr. Lester looking so sharp at the portraits of the family which are hung up. There was one of a young girl, the prettiest thing I ever set eyes on; it was so beautiful it spoilt all the rest. Her eyes were just like stars, and such lovely curls of brown hair falling over her white neck and shoulders; but the sweet look on her face was better than all. I’m sure I should love that girl, and I guess Mr. Lester thought so too, from the way he kept going back to it again and again, as if he couldn’t get away, looking all the while so melancholy. One thing I’m sure of,” added Miss Letty as she rose to go; “that young man hasn’t got any thing to be ashamed of; for if ever there was an honest and brave soul looking out through a face, his is the one, and I’d trust him with the last cent I had in the world.”
With this emphatic declaration Miss Letty took her leave, and the last I saw of the white sun-bonnet, it was disappearing among the shrubbery at the parsonage.
CHAPTER II.
THE SOLDIERS’ AID SOCIETY.
The new-comers were at length settled in their pleasant home. The neighbors had all called, and were received with a courtesy and kindness which won golden opinions from every one.
Mrs. Fenton was a confirmed invalid, never leaving her apartment; but the peace of God, which like a river flowed through her soul, filled the room with sunshine. In early life she had been a proud, ambitious woman, valuing wealth and social distinction above all things else, and anxious only that her children should shine in the circles of fashion to which she belonged. But in the midst of her career the hand of God was laid upon her, and in the solitude of a sick-room she was forced to think. Through the prayers and efforts of a faithful Christian friend she was brought to look to Jesus for pardoning and healing mercy, and after a season of deep mental anguish, during which all the waves and billows of divine wrath seemed rolling over her, she found refuge at last at the foot of the cross, and was enabled to say from the heart, “I know in whom I have believed.”
For ten years since that hour she had been confined to her couch with a hopeless disease, often racked with intense agony, yet always the same patient, uncomplaining sufferer, always calm and happy, with a heart full of love and pity for every form of human sorrow. By her household she was looked upon as a guardian spirit, rather than a helpless dependent. Every disputed question was referred to her decision, and whatever storms invaded the domestic circle, “mother’s room” was always a place of refuge, which seemed to her children the dearest spot on earth.