The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 70

A slight noise startled her, and she turned quickly. Was it a vision? Or did her long-lost husband stand before her, the shadow of what he had been?

"Clara! Dear Clara!"

In a moment she was clinging to him with a trembling, eager, convulsive grasp. Tenderly did he fold her in his arms, and press his lips to hers fervently.

"Clara! Dear Clara!"

"My own dear husband!" was all she could utter, as she sank like a helpless child on his bosom.

For four years from the night of his wedding, Haley had been a common drunkard, with no power over himself. On the brink of the grave, he was rescued, signed a pledge of total abstinence, and set himself eagerly to work to elevate his condition. One year had sufficed to efface many sad tokens of his degradation, but time could not restore the freshness to his cheek, nor the light to his eye. Then he returned and sought his bride, who still mourned him with an inconsolable grief. A few months produced a happy change in both. But they cannot look back. Over the past they throw a veil,--the future is theirs, and it is growing brighter and brighter. May its clear sky never be darkened!

THE ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT.

"Is there a good fire in the little spare room Jane?" said Mr. Wade, a plain country farmer, coming into the kitchen where his good wife was busy preparing for supper.

"Oh, yes, I've made the room as comfortable as can be," replied Mrs.

Wade; "but I wish you would take up a good armful of wood now, so that we wont have to disturb Mr. N--, by going into the room after he gets here."

"If he should come this evening," remarked the husband. "But it is getting late, and I am afraid he won't be here Before the morning."

"Oh, I guess he will be along soon. I have felt all day as if he were coming."

"They say he is a good man, and preaches most powerfully. Mr. Jones heard him preach in New York at the last conference, and tells me he never heard such a sermon as he gave them. It cut right and left, and his words went home to every heart like arrows of conviction."

"I hope he will be here this evening," remarked the wife as she put some cakes in the oven.

"And so do I." remarked Mr. Wade, as he turned away, and went out to the wood pile for an armfull of wood for the expected minister's room.

It was Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and nearly sundown. Mr. N--, who was expected to arrive, and for whose comfort every preparation in their power to make, had been completed by the family at whose house he was to stay, was the new Presiding Elder of B--District, in the New Jersey Conference. Quarterly meeting was to be held on the next day, which was Sunday, when Mr. N--was to preach, and administer the ordinances of the church. Being his first visit to that part of the District, the preacher was known to but few, if any, of the members, and they all looked forward to his arrival with interest, and were prepared to welcome him with respect and affection.

The house of Mr. Wade was known as the 'minister's home.' For years, in their movements through the circuit, the preachers, as they came round to this part in the field of their appointed labor, were welcomed by Brother and Sister Wade, and the little spare chamber made comfort. able for their reception. It was felt by these honest-hearted people, more a privilege than a duty, thus to share their temporal blessings with the men of G.o.d who ministered to them in holy things. They had their weaknesses, as we all have. One of their weaknesses consisted in a firm belief that they were deeply imbued with the genuine religion, and regarded things spiritual above all worldly considerations. They were kind, good people, certainly, but not as deeply read in the lore of their own hearts, not as familiar with the secret springs of their own actions, as all of us should desire to be. But this was hardly to be wondered at, seeing that their position in the church was rather elevated as compared with those around them, and they were the subjects of little distinguishing marks flattering to the natural man.

While Mr. Wade was splitting a log at the wood-pile, his thoughts on the new Presiding Elder, and his feelings warm with the antic.i.p.ated pleasure of meeting and entertaining him, a man of common appearance approached along the road, and when he came to where the farmer was, stood still and looked at him until he had finished cutting the log, and was preparing to lift the cleft pieces in his arms.

"Rather a cold day this," said the man.

"Yes, rather," returned Mr. Wade, a little indifferently, and in a voice meant to repulse the stranger, whose appearance did not impress him very favorably.

"How far is it to D--?" inquired the man.

"Three miles," replied Mr. Wade, who having filled his arms with wood, was beginning to move off towards the house.

"So far!" said the man in a tone that was slightly marked with hesitation. "I thought it was but a little way from this." Then with an air of hesitation, and speaking in a respectful voice, he added, "I would feel obliged if you would let me go in and warm myself. I have walked for two miles in the cold, an--as D--is still three miles off, I shall be chilled through before I get there."

So modest and natural a request as this, Mr. Wade could not refuse, and yet, in the way he said--"Oh, certainly"--there was a manner that clearly betrayed his wish that the man had pa.s.sed on and preferred his request somewhere else. Whether this was noticed or not, is of no consequence; the wayfarer on this a.s.sent to his request, followed Mr. Wade into the house.

"Jane," said the farmer as he entered the house with the stranger, and his voice was not as cordial as it might have been; "let this man warm himself by the kitchen fire. He has to go all the way to D--this evening and says he is cold."

There is a kind of magnetic intelligence in the tones of the voice.

Mrs. Wade understood perfectly, by the way in which this was said, that the husband did not feel much sympathy for the stranger, and only yielded the favor asked because he could not well refuse to grant it. Her own observation did not correct the impression her husband's manner had produced. The man's dress, though neither dirty nor ragged, was not calculated to impress any one very favorably.

His hat was much worn, and the old gray coat in which he was b.u.t.toned up to the chin, had seen so much service that it was literally threadbare from collar to skirt, and showed numerous patches, darns, and other evidences of needlework, applied long since to its original manufacture. His cow-hide boots, though whole, had a coa.r.s.e look; and his long dark beard gave his face, not a very prepossessing one at best, a no very attractive aspect.

"You can sit down there," said Mrs. Wade, a little ungraciously, for she felt the presence of the man, just at that particular juncture, as an intrusion; and she pointed to an old chair that stood. near the fire-place, in front of which was a large Dutch oven containing some of her best cream short cakes, prepared especially for Mr.

N--, the new Presiding Elder now momently expected.

"Thank you, Ma'am," returned the stranger, as he took the chair, and drew close up to the blazing hearth, and removing his thick woolen gloves, spread his hands to receive the genial warmth.

Nothing more was said by either the stranger or Mr. Wade, for the s.p.a.ce of three or four minutes. During this time, the good house-wife pa.s.sed in and out, once or twice, busy as could be in looking after supper affairs. The lid of the ample Dutch oven had been raised once or twice, and both the eyes and nose of the traveller greeted with a pleasant token of the good fare soon to be served up in the family. He was no longer cold; but the sight and smell of the cakes and other good things in preparation by the lady, awakened a sense of hunger, and made it keenly felt. But, as the comfort of a little warmth had been bestowed so reluctantly, he could not think of trespa.s.sing on the farmer and his wife for a bite of supper, and so commenced drawing on his heavy woolen gloves, and b.u.t.toning up his old gray coat. While occupied in doing this, Mr.

Wade came into the kitchen, and said--

"I'm afraid Jane, that the minister won't be along this evening.

It's after sun-down, and begins to grow duskish."

"He ought to have been here an hour ago," returned Mrs. W., in a tone of disappointment.

"It's getting late, my friend, and D--'s a good distance ahead,"

remarked the farmer, after standing with his back to the fire, and regarding for some moments the stranger, who had taken off his gloves, and was slowly unb.u.t.toning his coat again.

"It's three miles you say?"

"Yes, good three miles, if not more; and it will be dark in half an hour."

"What direction must I take?" required the stranger.

"You keep along the road until you come to the meeting house on the top of the hill, half a mile beyond this, and then you strike off to the right, and keep straight on."

"What meeting house is it?"

"The D--Methodist Meeting House."

"You are expecting the minister, I think you just now said?"

"Yes. Mr. N--, our new Presiding Elder, is to preach to-morrow, and he was to have been here this afternoon."

"He is to stay with you?"

"Certainly he is. The ministers all stay at my house."

The man got up, and went to the door and looked out.