“There is a better time coming, Agnes,” he said in an exultant voice, when they were alone that evening. He had informed her of the settlement of his affairs in New York, and reception of the sum which had been awarded to him in the division of property recovered from Mr. Lyon.
“A better time, Edward?” said Mrs. Markland. She seemed slightly startled at his words, and looked half timidly into his face.
“Yes, a better time, love. I have too long been powerless in the hands of a stern necessity, which has almost crushed the life out of me; but morning begins to break, the night is passing, and my way in the world grows clear again.”
“
He looked at her for several moments, his face changing until the light fading left it almost shadowed.
“Edward,” said Mrs. Markland, leaning toward him, and speaking earnestly, but, lovingly, “you look for a better time. How better? Are we not happy here? Nay, did we ever know more of true happiness than since we gathered closer together in this pleasant home? Have we not found a better time in a true appreciation of the ends of life? Have we not learned to live, in some feeble degree, that inner and higher life, from the development of which alone comes the soul’s tranquillity? Ah, Edward, do not let go of these truths that we have learned. Do not let your eyes become so dazzled by the splendour of the sun of this world as to lose the power to see into the inner world of your spirit, and behold the brighter sun that can make all glorious there.”
Markland bent his head, and for a little while a feeling of sadness oppressed him. The hope of worldly elevation, which had sprung up with so sudden and brilliant a flame, faded slowly away, and in its partial death the pains of dissolution were felt. The outer, visible, tangible world had strong attractions for his natural mind; and its wealth, distinctions, luxuries, and honours, looked fascinating in the light of his natural affections; yet glimpses had already been given to him of another world of higher and diviner beauty. He had listened, entranced, to its melodies, that came as from afar off; its fragrant airs had awakened his delighted sense; he had seen, as in a vision, the beauty of its inhabitants, and now the words of his wife restored all to his remembrance.
“The good time for which all are looking, and toiling, and waiting so impatiently,” said Mrs. Markland, after a pause, “will never come to any unless in a change of affection.”
“The life must be changed.”
“Yes, or, in better words, the love. If that be fixed on mere outward and natural things, life will be only a restless seeking after the unattainable—for the natural affections only grow by what they feed upon—desire ever increasing, until the still panting, unsatisfied heart has made for itself a hell of misery.”
“Thanks, angel of my life!” returned Markland, as soon as he had, in a measure, recovered himself. “Even the painful lessons I have been taught would fade from my memory, but for thee!”
CHAPTER XLIV.
A FEW weeks later, and “Lawn Cottage” was the scene of an event which made the hearts of its inmates glad even to tears. That event was the marriage of Fanny. From the time of her betrothment to Mr. Willet, a new life seemed born in her spirit and a new beauty stamped upon her countenance. All around her was diffused the heart’s warm sunshine. As if from a long, bewildering, painful dream, she had awakened to find the morning breaking in serene beauty, and loving arms gathered protectingly around her. The desolating tempest had swept by; and so brilliant was the sunshine, and so clear the bending azure, that night and storms were both forgotten.
Old Mr. Allison was one of the few guests, outside of the families, who were present at the nuptial ceremonies. The bride—in years, if not in heart-experience, yet too young to enter upon the high duties to which she had solemnly pledged herself—looked the embodied image of purity and loveliness.
“Let me congratulate you,” said the old man, sitting down beside Mr. Markland, and grasping his hand, after the beautiful and impressive ceremony was over and the husband’s lips had touched the lips of his bride and wife. “And mine is no ordinary congratulation, that goes scarcely deeper than words, for I see in this marriage the beginning of a true marriage; and in these external bonds, the image of those truer spiritual bonds which are to unite them in eternal oneness.”
“What an escape she made!” responded the father, a shudder running through his frame, as there arose before him, at that instant, a clear recollection of the past, and of his own strange, consenting blindness.
“The danger was fearful,” replied Mr. Allison, who understood the meaning of the words which had just been uttered. “But it is past now.”
“Yes, thanks to the infinite wisdom that leads us back into right paths. Oh! what a life of unimagined wretchedness would have fallen to her lot, if all my plans and hopes had been accomplished! Do you know, Mr. Allison, that I have compared my insane purposes in the past to that of those men of old who made their children pass through the fire to Moloch? I set up an idol—a bloody Moloch—and was about sacrificing to it my child!”
“There is One who sits above the blinding vapours of human passion, and sees all ends from the beginning; One who loves us with an infinite tenderness, and leads us, even through struggling resistance, back to the right paths, let us stray never so often. Happy are we, if, when the right paths are gained, we walk therein with willing feet. Mr. Markland, your experiences have been of a most painful character; almost crushed out has been the natural life that held the soaring spirit fettered to the perishing things of this outer world; but you have felt that a new and better life has been born within you, and have tasted some of its purer pleasures. Oh, sir! let not the life of this world extinguish a fire that is kindled for eternity.”
“How wonderfully has the infinite mercy saved me from myself!” returned Mr. Markland. “Wise, skilful in the ways of the world, prudent, and far-seeing in my own estimation, yet was I blind, ignorant, and full of strong self- will. I chose my own way in the world, dazzled by the false glitter of merely external things. I launched my bark, freighted with human souls, boldly upon an unknown sea, and, but for the storms that drove me into a sheltered haven, would have made a fearful wreck.”
“Then sail not forth again,” said Mr. Allison, “unless you have divine truth as your chart, and heaven’s own pilot on board your vessel. It is still freighted with human souls.”
“A fearful responsibility is mine.” Mr. Markland spoke partly to himself.
“Yes,” replied the old man; “for into your keeping immortal spirits have been committed. It is for them, not for yourself, that you are to live. Their good, not your own pleasure, is to be sought.”
“Ah, if I had comprehended this truth years ago!” Markland sighed as he uttered the words.
“This is too happy an occasion,” said Mr. Allison, in a cheerful voice, “to be marred by regrets for the past. They should never be permitted to bear down our spirits with sadness. The bright future is all before us, and the good time awaiting us if we but look for it in the right direction.”
