“I do not consider war as the worst of all evils,” replied Lilian, “dreadful as it is. There are times in the history of all nations, when liberty can only be preserved by fighting for it, and I believe God hates a guilty peace, even more than the desolations of war. Storms are very useful and salutary things,” she added with a smile, “though they often make sad havoc of property and life. None can mourn more than I do the loss of the glorious dead, who have fallen in the cause of freedom; but it is far better to die so than to live cowards or traitors.”
Clearly there was nothing to be made out of Lilian Grey, and Mrs. Flint looked about for Elinor; but Mabel Ryder was on her guard, and gave no opportunity for an attack in that direction. So our Beach Hill diplomat was silent for a time, but during the afternoon I heard her in discussion with Miss Letty on some subject which seemed to interest the latter very deeply. I only caught the conclusion of Mrs. Flint’s remarks. “Such things seem to me very singular, to say the least.”
“Well, I’m very thankful that I haven’t the faculty of seeing singular things that some folks seem to have. I always thought that this was a land of liberty, and that men could go into the army and fight, or stay at home and help others to go, just as they thought right, without being called to an account for it. Mr. Lester is able to take care of himself, and doesn’t need my help; but I hate this mousing round after characters, just as if they were bits of cheese.”
“But you must acknowledge,” answered the purring voice again, “that there’s a mystery about this young man, and that is always against any one.”
“Fiddlesticks on your mystery. I sha’n’t acknowledge any such thing. In the first place, I don’t call every thing a mystery that I can’t see through; for if I did, there’d be no end of mysteries, seeing I can understand but very little. In the next place, supposing there is a mystery, it may be a good one; for I suppose there can be good mysteries as well as bad ones in this world.”
“I have been told on very good authority,” persisted Mrs. Flint, “that Mr. Lester has been much at the South, and he may have his own private reasons for not wishing to fight the rebels.”
“And if he has,” replied Miss Letty, “I dare say they are honorable ones, and if they satisfy him, I don’t see what business ’tis of ours. When I get a person marked down in my book as pure gold, I a’n’t always going over them with a magnifying-glass to see if I can’t find a flaw somewhere. If there are things about them I don’t understand, I take it for granted they’re of a piece with those that I do understand, and so it never troubles me a bit.”
“I know he is a great favorite of yours, and you can’t see any faults in him; but for my part, I never had clear evidence of his being a Christian.”
“And pray, what kind of evidence do you want?” inquired Miss Letty, with more asperity of tone than I had ever heard from her before. “If humbly trusting in Christ, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and taking care of widows and orphans, isn’t religion, what is? Mr. Lester is always on hand when any thing good is going forward in the church, though he doesn’t pray at the corners of the streets, like the Pharisees, nor say to everybody, by his looks and actions, ‘See how good I am.’ I think though, that he follows his Master a great deal nearer than some who try to make out that their little tallow dip is a splendid Drummond light. But bless me, Mrs. Flint, you’re sewing that sleeve in wrong-side out. It wont do to talk about our neighbors and sew for the soldiers at the same time.”
With this home-thrust Miss Letty left the room, while we all inwardly rejoiced that Mrs. Flint had been silenced by one whom she regarded as so greatly her inferior.