Who Are Happiest? and Other Stories Part 12

Flora cast her eyes upon the floor, and sat silent for some time. Her pride struggled hard with her sense of justice. At length she said, looking up, and breathing heavily--

"I would rather not mention my informant, Ellen. It will only make difficulty. You will go to her, and then there will be trouble. I think you had better let the matter rest where it is. I do not, now, believe what I heard. The person who told me, was, no doubt, mistaken."

"But, Flora, that would not be right. You have already repeated what you heard so publicly, that it is possible at least fifty persons now believe me guilty of having spoken an untruth. You should have reflected beforehand. Now it is too late to let the matter drop. My character is at stake, and I am bound to vindicate it. This I shall have to do in such a manner as to fully clear myself from the charge. The consequence will be, as you may at once perceive, that upon you will rest the burden of having originated a false charge against me. Then, if not now, you will feel it your duty to give the name of your friend. This, you had much better do at once. No doubt she has been led into a mistake by a too hasty judgment of my acts, but half understood. She may have observed Mr. Evelyn ask me to dance, and have naturally inferred that I declined on the ground of a previous engagement. This being in her mind, she may have too hastily concluded, when she soon afterwards saw me accept another offer, that I had not spoken the truth at the time I refused to dance with Evelyn. All this can easily be explained, and the matter put to rest."

Flora hesitated for a short time, and then said--

"It was Araminta Thomas who told me."

"Thank you for this information. Will you now go with me to see Araminta?"

"I would rather not," Flora returned.

"I think it would be better for you to do so, Flora," urged Ellen. But she could not be persuaded.

"I must then go alone," said Ellen, rising and bidding Flora good morning.

In a little while she was at the house of Araminta Thomas. Ellen entered at once upon the business of her visit, by stating what she had heard.

Araminta looked confused, but denied saying that Ellen had actually told Evelyn she was engaged for the next cotillion.

"Then what did you say?" mildly asked Ellen.

"I said," replied Araminta, "that I saw you decline Evelyn's offer for your hand."

"But did not say that I told him I was engaged?"

"_Not positively_; I only _inferred_, as was natural, that you declined on that ground."

"Was your communication to Flora mere inferential?"

"It was."

"But she says you told her that you heard me say I was engaged."

"In that she is mistaken. I inferred that your refusal to dance was for the reason stated. But I did not _know_ that it was, and, therefore only gave my own impression."

"Which Flora has taken for the truth, and so repeated."

"On my authority?"

"Yes. After having been pressed by me very closely."

"In that she was wrong. But I suppose I was as wrong in giving an impression which might not be a true one, as she has been in giving my impressions as actual facts, and making me responsible for them. But will you, as matters have taken this serious and unexpected turn, give me the exact truth. I will then, so far as in my power lies, endeavour to correct what I have done."

"Most cheerfully. You know as well as I do, that Evelyn has not acted in some things with that honour and integrity that becomes a gentleman?"

"I do."

"It was on this ground that I declined. He asked me if I was engaged in the next set? I said no. He then proffered his hand, which I declined.

In a little while after, and while sitting beside you, a gentleman wished to have me as a partner. I accepted his invitation. This is the simple truth."

"And so it seems," said Araminta with a sober face, "that while you were rebuking vice, and standing up with dignified, virtuous firmness in the cause of our s.e.x, I was misjudging you. And not only that, was so far influenced by an improper spirit as to impart to others my wrong impressions to your injury. Alas! poor, weak human nature! I feel rebuked and humbled. More for what I thought than for what I said, for out of the heart proceedeth evil thoughts. If I had not had something wrong here, I would not have been so ready to misjudge you. But all that I can do to repair the wrong, I am ready to do."

"All I ask is, that you correct Flora, and take some little care, that, where she has imparted a wrong impression, the true one is given in its place."

"That I will do with all my heart," Araminta replied. "I will see Flora this very hour."

"Do so, and you shall have not only my thanks, but my esteem and love.

We are all liable to do wrong. But to confess and repair the wrong we have done, as far as we can, is n.o.ble. In so doing, power is given us to conquer in all the temptations that may a.s.sail us."

As soon as Ellen had retired, Araminta went out and called upon Flora.

She found her troubled and mortified at the turn matters had taken. She tried to excuse herself for what she had done, and insisted, at first, that Araminta had actually stated all she had said of Ellen Gray's conduct. But this point she soon had to give up. Araminta was too positive, and her own memory a little too clear on the subject. In fact, when the whole truth came fully to the light, it was very apparent, that if there were any falsehood in the matter, she was the most guilty.

Certain it was, that Ellen Gray was innocent, in every particular, of the charge that had been made against her.

Mrs. Marion knew nothing of all this, until the day after Ellen Gray had called upon Flora. Then her niece, whose troubled looks had not escaped her notice, gave a relation of what had occurred. It was in reply to this that the opening remarks of our story were made. When Mary Lee came in, as the reader has seen, Flora received her coldly. Mrs. Marion, on the contrary, welcomed her with genuine cordiality.

"I am glad to see you, Mary," she said--"and particularly at this time.

It seems there has been a misunderstanding among you young ladies, and that Flora is not altogether pleased with the part you have taken."

"It is to see her in regard to that very matter that I am here this morning," Mary said. "I know she blames me for having told Ellen Lee what I did. But in that I acted conscientiously. I did to another as I would have another do to me. I acted towards Ellen as I would act towards Flora, were I to hear any one making statements that were calculated to injure her. The result, I think, should satisfy Flora that I was right in doing what I have done. Ellen, it now appears, was entirely innocent of the charge made against her--as I knew she must be.

Araminta Thomas, to whom the report has been traced, regrets extremely, that upon her hasty inferences, so serious a matter has grown up. She acknowledged that she only _inferred_ that Ellen told an untruth. Flora took this inference for a direct a.s.sertion, and thence came the charge of falsehood against Ellen Gray. Has not, then, the result proved that the course I took was the only right one? Does it not show that I would have been guilty of a great wrong, if, to save the feelings of any one, I had left an innocent person to bear the imputation of wrong?"

"It certainly does, Mary. And Flora cannot but see it in the same light."

"And she will, surely, forgive me the pain I have occasioned her,"

resumed Mary, "seeing that I had no selfish end to gain in what I did, but was moved only by the desire to vindicate injured innocence."

This appeal softened Flora's feelings toward Mary Lee. She saw that she was wrong, and that Mary was right. Mary had been governed by a high-minded regard for right. Pride soon yielded.

"Mary," said she, taking her hand, while the tears came into her eyes, "I confess that I have been wrong, and you right. I shall not soon forget this lesson. Forgive the unkind thought I have had of you, and say to Ellen, from me, that I do most sincerely regret the part I have taken in this matter."

"Will I ever learn to be guarded in my remarks!" Flora said, to her aunt, after Mary had left them. "This is the third time I have been called to account for speaking of others, within the last few months."

"Never, I suppose," Mrs. Marion replied, "until you learn to guard your thoughts as well as your words. If, like Mary Lee, you were less disposed to give credence to every disparaging report circulated about others, you would need no guard placed over your tongue. It is from the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaketh. _A good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, bringeth forth good things: and an evil man, out of the evil treasure, bringeth forth evil things._ Try and keep this in mind. If you are more ready to believe an evil than a good report of others, be sure that all is not right with you, and more especially, if you feel an inward pleasure in convicting them of wrong. A truly good mind is always grieved at improper conduct in others, and ever seeks to palliate, rather than to judge with severity. It gives but slow credence to evil reports. Truly regard the good of all around you, and there will be no need of placing a bridle on your tongue."

THE RICH AND THE POOR.

A hot and sultry summer had pa.s.sed away, and autumn was verging on toward its cooler months, with their long and quiet evenings.

Occasionally a colder day than usual made a fire in the grate necessary and drew closer together the happy family of Mr. Barton in their evening circle. It was pleasant to all, thus to feel the warm fire again, and to see its deep glow reflected from loving faces.

"How good the fire feels!" said James, holding up his small hands to receive its heat, and smiling as he looked upon it.

"I think I love the winter best after all," remarked William. "It is so pleasant to sit round the fire, and feel its warmth upon our hands and face. Home feels more like home. Don't you think so, father?"