“I will call one a fiend, as I call the other an angel. To do good is angelic, while to do evil is fiendlike. None but a fiend could take pleasure in doing harm to an innocent babe. Well, as I was saying, after this darling baby was a few months old, the angel’s face would at times be shadowed; and then a gleam of malignant pleasure would flash over the countenance of the attendant fiend. And now I will tell you the reason. Do you wish to hear?”
“Oh, yes, Miss Harper! Tell me the reason,” answered Madeline, all attention.
“The babe, even as early as I have said, displayed an evil temper. It grew angry, pushed its mother away, and resisted her. This troubled the guardian angel, and this it was that gave the fiend delight. But these fits of passion were but transient, passing away as the morning cloud and the early dew, under the sunny influence of that blessed guardian angel. The fiend was still repelled,—still kept at a distance. But she wearied not with waiting. She knew that her time would come,—that the angel would not always have power to hold her in the distance.”
Miss Harper paused, and looked into the face of Madeline. There was something in its deeply-interested expression that a little puzzled her.
“Shall I go on?” she asked.
“The fiend didn’t hurt the baby, Miss Harper? The angel didn’t go away?” Her voice was earnest almost to eagerness.
“The angels never leave us of their own accord. We drive them away, and then, instantly, evil spirits take their places. This is so from childhood, even to old age. It was so with the baby of whom I am telling you; it is so with your brother Georgie now; so with you; so with me; so with every one. We choose our own companions, always; and they are evil or good. No angel can be near to us when we are angry with our brother, when we hate, when we are selfishly seeking our own pleasure in a total disregard of others; and the moment these bad affections push the angel attendants away, evil spirits draw near, and by their malignant power increase our anger, hate, and selfishness, and make us wretched in consequence; for bad passions always produce unhappiness.”
Madeline looked very serious,—almost sad.
“Is it so with all of us?” she asked, in a low voice.
“It is so with all of us, dear. But shall I tell you more about this baby?”