CHAPTER XI.
"'Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die." --_Montgomery._
Mrs. Carrington obeyed with all speed the call to come to the aid of herunworthy nephew, and her arrival was not delayed many days after that oftheir kind entertainers.
She received a cordial welcome; but since that first day the ladies andchildren of the family had seen very little of her, for Boyd had takento his bed, and she devoted herself to him.
The gentlemen frequently spent a little time in his room, inducedthereto by motives of kindness, but the others never approached it.
Elsie looked upon him as the would-be murderer of her husband, and couldscarcely think of him without a shudder.
She was willing, even anxious to give him every comfort that money couldbuy, and that every effort should be made by her father and others tolead him to repentance and faith in Christ to the saving of his soul;but she shrank from seeing him, though she made kind inquiries, sentmessages, and offered many sincere and fervent prayers on his behalf.
Strolling about the grounds one afternoon with her little ones, she sawher father coming towards her.
Something in the expression of his countenance as he drew rapidly nearerstartled her with a vague fear.
"What is it, papa?" she asked tremulously.
"Take my arm," he said, offering it. "I have something to say to you.Rosie, do you and Walter go to your mammy."
The children obeyed, while he and their mother turned into another path.
Elsie's heart was beating very fast. "Papa, is--is anything wrongwith--"
"With any of your loved ones? No, daughter: they are all safe and wellso far as I know. But I have a message for you--a request which it willnot be easy or pleasant for you to grant, or to refuse. Boyd is drawingvery near his end, and with a mind full of horror and despair. He saysthere is no hope, no mercy for him--nothing but the blackness ofdarkness forever."
Elsie's eyes overflowed. "Poor, poor fellow! Papa, can nothing be donefor him?"
"Could you bear to go to him?" he asked tenderly. "Forgive me, dearchild, for paining you with such a suggestion; but the poor wretchthinks he could die easier if he heard you say that you forgive him."
There was a shudder, a moment's struggle with herself; then she said,very low and sadly, "Yes, papa, I will go at once. How selfish I havebeen in staying away so long. But--O Edward! my husband, my husband!"
He soothed her very tenderly for a moment, then asked gently, "Would henot have bidden you go?"
"Oh, yes, yes: he would have forgiven, he did forgive him with all hisgreat, generous heart. And, God helping me, so will I. I am ready togo."
"Lost, lost, lost! no hope, no help, the blackness of darkness forever!"were the words, uttered in piercing tones, full of anguish and despair,that greeted Elsie's ears as her father softly opened the door of Boyd'sroom and led her in.
At those sounds, at the sight that met her view--the wretched man withthe seal of death on his haggard, emaciated face, seamed and scarredbeyond all recognition, tossing restlessly from side to side, while herent the air with his cries--she turned so sick and faint that shestaggered, and but for the support of her father's arm would have fallento the floor.
"Call up all your courage, my dear child," he whispered, leaning overher, "look to the Lord for strength, and who shall say you may not heable to do the poor dying wretch some good?"
She struggled determinately with her faintness, and they drew near thebed.
Boyd started up at sight of her, thrusting the maimed hand under thebedclothes, and holding out the other with a ghastly smile.
"You're an angel, Mrs. Travilla!" he gasped, "an angel of mercy to amiserable wretch whom you've a good right to hate."
"No," she said, taking the hand in a kindly grasp, "I have no right tohate you, or any one--I whose sins against my Lord are far, far greaterthan yours against me or mine. I forgive you, as I hope to be forgiven.May God forgive you also."
"No, no, it is too late, too late for that!" he groaned. "I have sinnedagainst light and knowledge. He has called and I refused many, manytimes; and now the door is shut."
"It is your adversary the devil who tells you that," she said, tearsstreaming from her eyes; "he would destroy your soul: but the words ofJesus are, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out?''Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.'"
"Ah, but he also says, 'Because I have called and ye refused; I havestretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at naughtall my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at yourcalamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh asdesolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distressand anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I willnot answer.' Oh it's all true, every word of it!" he cried, with a lookof horror and despair that none who saw it could ever forget, "I feel itin my inmost soul. There was a time when mercy's door was open to me,but it's shut now, shut forever."
"O George, George!" sobbed his aunt, "the invitation is withoutlimit--'whosoever will;' if you have a will to come, it cannot be thatit is even now too late."
"But those words--those dreadful words," he said, turning eagerly towardher, "Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer.'"
"Are addressed to those who desire deliverance, not from sin itself, butonly from its punishment," said Mr. Dinsmore. "If you have any desire tobe saved from your sins, to be cleansed from their pollution, to be madeholy, it is not too late--the 'whosoever will' is for you."
He shook his head sadly. "I don't know, I don't know, a death-bed is apoor place to analyze one's feelings. Oh! warn men everywhere not to putit off, not to put it off! Tell them it is running a fearful risk."
"We will, we will," said his aunt; "but, O George, think of yourself:'cry to Jesus, he is able to save to the uttermost,' and he has nopleasure in the death of any soul; he would have you turn now and live:oh cry to him for mercy!"
"Too late, too late!" he muttered faintly, "the door is shut."
They knelt about his bed and poured out fervent prayers for him; theyrepeated promise after promise, invitations and assurances from theword, of God's willingness to save.
At last, "I'm going, going!" he gasped. "Oh God be merciful to me asinner!" And with the last word the spirit took its flight.
Mrs. Carrington sank, half fainting, into Elsie's arms, and Mr. Dinsmoreand the doctor bore her from the room.
It was Elsie's sad task to try to comfort and console where there waslittle to build hope upon: she could but dwell upon God's great mercy,his willingness to save, and the possibility that that last dying crycame from a truly penitent heart.
"I must try to believe it, else my heart would break!" cried the oldlady. "O Elsie, my heart has bled for you, but your sorrow is not likeunto my sorrow! You can rest in the sure and certain hope of a blissfulreunion, you know that your beloved is rejoicing before the throne;while I--alas, alas! I know not where my poor boy is. And I am torturedwith the fear that some of his blood may be found in my skirts--that Idid not guide and instruct, warn and entreat him as I might; that myprayers were not frequent and fervent enough, my example all that itshould have been."
"My dear friend, 'who is sufficient for these things?'" Elsie answered,weeping; "who has not reason for such self reproach? I think not youmore than the rest of us."
"Ah!" sighed the old lady, "I wish that were so: had I but been to him,and to my own children, the mother you are to yours, my conscience wouldnot now trouble me as it does."
Mrs. Travilla had caused a room to be fitted up as a studio for herolder daughters, and here they were spending their afternoon--Vipainting, Elsie modelling and thinking, the while, of her absent lover,perchance busy in his studio with hammer and chisel.
"The sun is setting," exclaimed Violet at length, throwing down herbrush. "What can have become of mamma that she has not been in to watchour progress?"
"I hope she has been taking a drive," Elsie answered, ceasing work also."Come, let us go and dress for tea, Vi; it is high time."
They hastened to do so, and had scarcely completed their toilet whenHarold rapped and asked if mamma were there.
"No? Where can she have gone?" he said. "Herbie and I came in fromfishing a little while ago, and we have hunted for her almosteverywhere."
"Except in the nursery," suggested Herbert. "Let's go and see if she'sthere."
"The carriage is driving up," said Vi, glancing through the window;"probably mamma is in it," and all four hurried down to the frontveranda eager to meet and welcome her.
Their old grandfather alighted, handed out Grandma Rose, Aunt Enna, Isa,and then, with the help of one of the servant men, Molly.
The carriage door closed. Mamma was not there. Indeed their grandma andIsa were asking for her as they came up the steps.
And childish voices were now heard in their rear making the sameinquiry--Rosie and Walter coming from the nursery in search of themother they never willingly lost sight of for an hour.
"Why, what can have become of mamma? Rosie, when did you see her last?"asked Harold.
"Out on the lawn. She was walking with us, and grandpa came and took heraway."
"Where to?"
"I don't know," answered the child, bursting into tears.
"There, there, don't cry; dear mamma's sure to be safe along withgrandpa," Harold said, putting his arms around his little sister. "Andhere he comes to tell us about her," he added joyously, as Mr. Dinsmorewas seen coming down the hall.
They crowded about him, the same question on every tongue.
"She is with Mrs. Carrington," he said, patting the heads of the weepingRosie and Walter. "Don't cry, my children. She may not be able to joinus at tea, but you shall see her before you go to your beds."
Then to the older ones, speaking in a subdued tone, "Boyd is gone, andhis aunt is much overcome."
"Gone, Horace!" exclaimed his wife, looking shocked and awe-struck: "howdid he die? was there any ground for hope?"
"Very little," he sighed, "that is the saddest part of it. The body willbe sent away to-night," he added, in answer to a question from hisfather; "he is to be buried with the rest of his family. Mrs. Carringtonwill not go with it, will probably remain here through the winter."
All felt it a relief that the burial was not to be near at hand, or thecorpse to remain many hours in the house--"a wicked man's corpse," asHarold said with a shudder, but all were saddened and horror-struck atthe thought that he had gone leaving so little reason for hope of hissalvation.
They gathered at the supper-table a very quiet, solemn company; fewwords were spoken; the little ones missed their mother and were glad toget away to the nursery, where she presently came to them, looking sadand with traces of recent tears about her eyes.
But she smiled very sweetly upon them, kissed them tenderly, and sittingdown, took Walter on her lap and put an arm round Rosie as she stood byher side.
They were curious to know about Mr. Boyd, asking if he had gone toheaven where dear papa and Lily were.
"I do not know, my darlings," she answered, the tears coming into hereyes again; "he is there if he repented of his sins against God, andtrusted in Jesus."
Then she talked to them, as often before, of the dear Saviour--the greatlove wherewith he loves his people, and the many mansions he ispreparing for them.
She spoke to them, too, of God's hatred of sin, and the need ofwatchfulness and prayer.
"The devil hates us, my darlings," she said; "he goes about like aroaring lion, seeking to kill our souls; but Jesus loves us, he isstronger than Satan, and if we keep close to him we are safe."
Having seen them safe in bed, she went to her dressing-room, to find theother four there waiting for her.
They gathered about her with glad, loving looks and words, each eager toanticipate her wishes and to be the first to wait upon her.
"My dear children," she said, smiling through glistening tears, "yourlove is very sweet to me!"
"And what do you think yours is to us, mamma?" exclaimed Violet,kneeling at her mother's feet and clasping her arms about her waist,while she lifted to hers a face glowing with ardent affection andadmiration.
"Just the same, I hope and believe;" and with the words the mother'shand passed caressingly over the golden curls.
"Mamma, you have been crying very much," remarked Harold sorrowfully. "Iwish--"
"Well, my son?" as he paused, leaving his sentence unfinished.
"I wish I could make you so happy that you would never want to shed atear."
"When I get to heaven, my dear boy, it will be so with me. 'God shallwipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death,neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.' Andthat is where your dear papa is now. Oh how glad we ought to be forhim!" she said with mingled smiles and tears. "'Blessed are the deadwhich die in the Lord:' but oh, it is not so, my children, with thosewho have not chosen him for their portion! 'for to them is reserved theblackness of darkness for ever.'"
There was a slight solemn pause, all thinking of the wretched man whohad passed away from earth that afternoon.
"Mamma," asked Harold at last, speaking in a subdued tone, "do you thinkit is so with Mr. Boyd?"
"My son," she said gently, "that is a question we are not called upon todecide; we can only leave him in the hands of God, in full confidencethat the Judge of all the earth will do right."
"Mamma, would you like to tell us about it?" asked Herbert.
"It is a painful subject," she sighed, "but--yes, I will tell you, thatit may be a warning to you all your lives."
They listened with awe-struck faces, and with tears of pity, as she wenton to give a graphic picture of that death scene so different from theone they had witnessed a few short months ago.
"Oh my children," she said, "live not for time, but for eternity!remembering that this life is but a preparation for another and endlessexistence. 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness.''Count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of ChristJesus our Lord.' Choose his service now while youth and health areyours, and when death comes you will have nothing to fear. 'The wickedis driven away in his wickedness: but the righteous hath hope in hisdeath.' 'Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a mansoweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh, shallof the flesh reap corruption: but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall ofthe Spirit reap life everlasting.'"
"Yes, mamma," Elsie said in a half-whisper, the tears stealing down hercheeks, "surely we have seen it fulfilled in these last few months. Ourbeloved father sowed to the Spirit, and what a joyous reaping is his!How calmly and sweetly he fell asleep in Jesus."
"Yes," the mother said, mingling her tears with theirs--for all wereweeping now--yet with a light shining in her eyes, "I am full of joy andthankfulness to-night in the midst of my grief. Oh how should we loveand rejoice in this dear Saviour, who through his own death has giveneternal life to him and to us; and to as many as God has given him--toall that will come to him for it."
Elsie's Widowhood Page 11
