Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER IX.

  HOPES AND FEARS.

  We dined at Mr. Dickinson's, and as the weather was warm, waited tillnear sunset before we returned home. As we got into the carriage, Mr.Dickinson said, "I shall expect you to-morrow, if the weather be fine."

  Harriet turned her head anxiously towards the west to see what weatherthe setting sun would promise us. It was just then under a cloud, but wehad not gone a quarter of a mile before it shone out very brightly.Harriet clapped her hands and cried out, "Oh, Aunt Kitty, is it notdelightful?"

  "It is very beautiful, my dear, certainly," said I, looking at the cloudwhich glittered like the brightest gold in the sunlight.

  "But, Aunt Kitty, I mean, is it not delightful to think that we shallhave such a fine day to-morrow to go to Flowerhill?"

  "Why, Harriet, are you not a little whimsical, to be so highly delightedwith the prospect of doing to-morrow what, when I first proposed it toyou to-day, you seemed rather disinclined to do?"

  "That was because I thought Mr. Dickinson was cross, but William says heis not cross at all; and then, you know, Aunt Kitty, Jessie is to gowith us to-morrow, and I am sure, almost, that Mr. Graham will get theplace."

  "I wish I felt sure, Harriet, or even _almost_ sure of it; but Mr.Dickinson seems very decided not to have any children about his garden."

  "But, Aunt Kitty, when he sees how careful Jessie is, do you not thinkhe may?"

  "We will hope for the best, Harriet. But even should Mr. Graham not gainthe place, Harriet Armand may gain a lesson from this business, and avery useful lesson too. Do you see what this lesson is, or shall I tellyou?"

  Harriet thought a minute, and then said, "You must tell me, Aunt Kitty,unless it is that I must be very careful in a garden, and especially inMr. Dickinson's garden." This last was said with a laugh.

  "No, Harriet, it is a far graver and more important lesson than this. Itis, that you must be careful everywhere to do no wrong--not theleast--for that which seems to you a very little wrong may be followedby very great evil, and by evil to others as well as to yourself. Thosechildren who have offended Mr. Dickinson, I dare say, thought it nogreat harm that they now and then picked a flower, or, in their play,ran over and trampled down the beds in his garden; yet you see how muchevil has followed,--their own parents have lost their pleasant home, andnow the remembrance of their bad conduct may prevent a good man'sgetting a situation which would save his family from great distress. Godhas taught us, my child, that wrong-doing always brings suffering, butwhat, or how great that suffering may be, we know not. Remember this,Harriet; and remember, too, that when once the wrong is done, howeverbitterly we may mourn over it, we cannot undo it, and the suffering_will_ follow--we cannot escape it."

  "But, Aunt Kitty," said Harriet, in a low and hesitating tone, "if weare sorry for what we do wrong,--if we mourn over it, as you say, willnot God forgive us?"

  "Yes, Harriet, He will forgive us, and so take away from us the worst ofall evils--His displeasure. He will pity us, and his 'loving-kindness'will comfort us under our suffering;--but the suffering must come, andeither by enduring it ourselves or by seeing others endure it, we shallbe taught how much better it would have been if we had not done thewrong--how wise was that commandment of God which forbade us to do it."

  The sun had set before we were at home. Harriet's first inquiry was, ifJessie had been yet to feed the cow. She had been, the servant said, andhad gone back home only a few minutes before we arrived. I told Harrietthat after we had taken tea we would walk over to Mr. Graham's together,and invite Jessie to go with us in the morning.

  "And may I tell her, Aunt Kitty, all about your trying to get the placefor her father, and beg her to be very careful not to touch theflowers?"

  "No, Harriet, Jessie would, like you, probably feel almost sure of theplace for her father, and the disappointment would be very hard to bearif he did not get it. Besides, I promised Mr. Dickinson to give her nocaution."

  "But, Aunt Kitty, I may just tell her how cross Mr. Dickinson is, sothat she may feel very much afraid to touch any thing."

  "Harriet!" said I, "have you forgotten already William Temple'sassurances that his uncle is not cross at all?"

  "No, Aunt Kitty, I have not forgotten--I did not mean how cross, but how_particular_ he is."

  "I think you had better say nothing to spoil Jessie's enjoyment of apleasant day. You would do no good by making her afraid to move. Mr.Dickinson would see quickly enough that she was not acting naturally,and would place no confidence in the continuance of such extremecautiousness." Harriet still looked anxious, and I added, "I can trustJessie without any cautions."

  The evening was very still--so still, that, as we walked to Mr.Graham's, we could hear the grasshoppers jumping from our path, and thelowing of a cow in a field near us sounded so loud, that Harriet startedas if it had been some strange noise. As we passed the garden we heardold Mrs. Graham's voice, and though the fence was too high for me to seethem, I soon found that she and Jessie were walking just inside of it,and therefore near enough for us to hear what they said. Had they beentalking of any thing which they might not have wished a stranger tohear, I would have spoken to them, but as this was not the case, and asI was interested in their conversation, I motioned to Harriet to keepquiet and listen to it.

  "Ah, yes, Jessie, it is a pretty place--a very pretty place," said Mrs.Graham.

  "But, grandmother," said Jessie, "there are a great many other placesjust as pretty."

  "Maybe so, Jessie, maybe so, but there are none, child, we love sowell."

  "But when we get used to them, grandmother, we should get to love them,should we not?"

  Mrs. Graham was silent for a minute or two, till Jessie said, "Say,grandmother, should we not?"

  "I was thinking, my dear, and I do not think I could. You would, Jessie,for the hearts of young people like you are full of hope. You are alwaysthinking of the pleasure you will have to-morrow, or the next week, orthe next month, and every change, you think, will bring some enjoyment.But our hearts, Jessie, the hearts of the old, are full of what weremember of the pleasures we have had already, and which can never comeback to us, and we love the old places best where we can look around andsay to ourselves--'There I had a pleasant walk with such a dear friend;and, There I sat when I heard such a piece of good news; and so on.' Doyou understand me, Jessie?"

  "Yes, grandmother." After a while, Jessie said in a very low voice, sothat I could just hear her, "Grandmother, did not grandfather livehere?"

  "Yes, my child, and I was just going to tell you, Jessie, that there isone move I would be willing to make; I would be willing to live near,quite near, the church, for it is getting to be hard work for me to getin and out of a wagon, and I cannot walk so far now, and though I amsure you take good care of grandfather's grave, I shall still want tosee it sometimes myself."

  Flowerhill was quite near the country church in whose grave-yard Mr.Graham had been buried, and Harriet could not resist whispering to me,"Oh, Aunt Kitty, it will just do."

  Mrs. Graham said nothing more, and when we entered the house at thefront door, she and Jessie were just coming up the steps which led fromthe garden. Jessie was delighted with the promise for to-morrow, and sooften repeated how good it was in Mr. Dickinson to let William Templeask her, that I saw Harriet was quite afraid that Mr. Dickinson wouldnot appear awful enough in Jessie's eyes, and that she longed to add,"but he is very particular." It was arranged that we were to go quiteearly in the morning, that is, by nine o'clock, when it would be stillcool and pleasant. This hour did not make it necessary for us to riseearlier than we usually did, as we always breakfasted at seven o'clockin summer. Yet, so much was Harriet excited, that three times in thenight she called out from her little room, to ask if I thought it neardaylight, and she started up in the morning with the first ray ofsunlight. As soon as she was dressed, I sent her for Mary Mackay. Beforebreakfast was on table all my company was collected, and a merriercompany was certainly never seen, ex
cept Harriet, who, though pleased,was anxious. Mary jumped, and danced, and laughed, and sung, tillHarriet exclaimed, "Mary, if you do so at Mr. Dickinson's he will thinkyou crazy. I am sure he would not trust anybody who danced about as youare doing, in his garden for one moment."

  "I do not care to go in his garden," said Mary, "I would rather a greatdeal play under the trees with William."

  "But you must go in the garden, Mary, or you will not see the flower,and you know you were asked to see the flower."

  "Don't be afraid, Harriet; I'll go in the garden, and when I do, I'llwalk so," putting her hands down close to her side as she spoke, andmincing her steps as if she was treading on something she was afraid ofcrushing. I had a little suspicion that this lesson was intended byHarriet more for Jessie than for Mary.