The Silver Lining Part 39

He saw that he was drifting towards bankruptcy. He resolved--he did more--he went to work, to try and avert the catastrophe. He succeeded in all that he undertook, for he worked with a will.

His lost son was not brought back to life, neither was the land which he had sold redeemed, but he managed to supply his wants and those of his family, besides putting something by for a rainy day.

CHAPTER XXIX.

DOMESTIC HAPPINESS.

They had had a hard day's work at "Les Marches," packing tomatoes for the English markets.

It was the month of September. The days were growing short and the nights long.

After the day's occupations were over, the family a.s.sembled in the neatly furnished parlour. Frank wrote his letters of advice to his fruit merchants. Then he took a German book, "Hauff's stories," and proceeded to read the diverting history of "Little Mudj," making frequent use of the vocabulary.

Afterwards, to relax his mind, he took a French book. It was one of the works of Blaise Pascal, his "Lettres Provinciales." He admired their originality, the trenchant satire, and the galling blows of this man whom Chateaubriand called a "frightful genius."

As he read the beautiful pa.s.sages which had issued from this great man's mind, he became imbued with some of the flame that had inspired the author of the book.

He placed the volume on the table, rested his head upon his hand and began to think of his past life.

He thought of his ambition to acquire riches, and of how he had been deceived. Providence had ordered otherwise and baffled him.

He was very well off now, but how differently from what he had antic.i.p.ated, he had acquired his present position.

He thought of his mental sufferings, the acute brain, the deep-seated ambition torturing him.

He no longer asked himself why he had endured pain. Had he never suffered, he would never have attained the moral position in which he now was. It was when he was disgusted with the world, when he experienced an aversion for earthly things, that his firmest resolves had been formed and his determination to do good solidified. It was then that he attempted to rise above the dusty, monotonous and weary walks of ordinary life; it was then that his virtuous sensibility had been awakened, and that his lofty conceptions had been framed. And now, having aimed at something n.o.ble, he was leading a useful, happy, and dignified life.

He was cheerful, and possessed of some of that supreme happiness which brightens the soul, and accompanies it through immortality.

He had said: "Why endure pain?" But it was with the same senses that he now enjoyed pleasure.

He had said: "Why suffer physically?" "Why," he thought, "if that little child did not feel, and had not experienced the pangs of hunger, it would now be dead; so would I, if, when I was wrapped in thick smoke, the foul gases had not irritated my bronchial tubes and my eyes.

"As for the remainder, I am satisfied to leave it to Him who has cared for and protected me so far through life. Perhaps the day will come when I shall also know the why and wherefore of things which I almost dared to accuse an all-wise Providence of having sent into the world."

While her husband was soliloquizing thus, Mrs. Mathers was busily engaged in st.i.tching a smart little pinafore of diaper.

Grandpapa was resting upon the sofa with little Adele seated on his knee.

He held both the child's hands in his, the left one he held in his left hand, and the right one he held in his right hand. Taking Adele's right-hand forefinger and placing it in her left hand, he began to tell her a little story about a lark, which he remembered his mother used to recite to him when he was a little boy.

"A little lark built its nest there," he began.

"Here, in my hand?" said the child.

"We shall suppose the little bird did so," answered Mr. Rougeant.

"It pa.s.sed this way, and the thumb caught it."

"Ah-ha," laughed little Adele.

"This finger plucked its feathers, this one cooked it, and--this one ate it."

Frank made some remark.

Mr. Rougeant looked up.

"And the little one," said Adele, pulling impatiently on her grandfather's sleeve, "you have not told me what the little one did."

"Indeed! well, the little one was left without a single crumb."

"Poor little one," said the child.

END.