CONCLUSION.
IT was long before Sophie began to recover her cheerfulness at all.
She felt that she had forfeited the respect of her best friends, and
that was enough to make her unhappy, but what most burdened her heart
was, that the cause of religion had suffered in the school through
her. All the girls had seen her become giddy and careless; and though
the particulars of the affair were not known, all were aware that she
had been involved with Carry Woodford in something very disgraceful.
She had of course lost all influence with Carry and her friends; and
whatever and however carefully she might govern herself by Christian
rules henceforth, they could never forget how she had once disregarded
them.
The next Sunday after the detection of the plot, Dr. Shelby gave
notice in church that the bishop's visit would take place in about six
weeks, and that lectures preparatory to Confirmation would begin upon
the next Wednesday evening. He hoped to see all the young people of
the congregation at these lectures, and would be at home upon certain
mornings and evenings of each week to all persons wishing to converse
with him upon the same subject. Sophie felt her heart sink within her;
she put down her head, and wept bitterly. Her mother noticed and pitied
her distress; she divined what was passing in her mind, and determined
to introduce the subject as soon as possible, in order that Sophie
might be relieved.
A convenient opportunity occurred that very afternoon, as the mother
and daughter were sitting together in the nursery. Mrs. Kennedy
alluded to Dr. Shelby's notice, and asked Sophie if she still held her
resolution to be confirmed at this time.
"I am afraid not, mother," said Sophie, sorrowfully. "Not that I do not
desire it as much as ever, but I am afraid I ought not. What would the
girls in school think to see me come forward so soon after—" She could
not finish the sentence.
"They would think, perhaps, that your profession and practice have not
agreed very well together, and they will be right. But as that does not
hinder you from making every effort to regain what you have lost and
to walk henceforth in the path of duty, so it should not hinder you
from making a public profession of your faith. You are no more likely
to fall because you acknowledge your dependence on a Higher Power.
Moreover, you have learned something, have you not, from what you have
gone through?"
"Yes, mother," answered Sophie; "a great deal, I hope. I have been
humbled in my own eyes, by seeing how weak I am when left to myself,
and I have learned too how dangerous it is to go one step out of the
way. As long as I preserved the spirit of watchfulness and prayer, I
had no trouble. The very beginning of my fall was studying my lessons
for school when I knew I ought to have been reading my Bible."
"Do you think that you have truly repented of your sins?"
"Yes, mother, I hope so."
"What reason have you to hope so, my dear?"
Sophie hesitated, and her mother continued: "I know it is rather a
difficult question, but I wish you to try and answer it, for your own
satisfaction."
"I think, mother," said Sophie, after some minutes' silence, "the chief
reason I have to hope so, is, that I hardly think of myself at all. I
mean, when I think over the matter, I do not care most about losing my
place in school, or even for having the girls consider me a hypocrite,
as some of them do, I know, but I am most sorry that Miss Higbee should
be so mortified, and that she should be made to believe that religious
people are no better than others. I am sorry to have made Carry
Woodford worse, too, as I know I have. And when I think on my God and
Saviour," she continued, "I am ready to sink into the earth. If I could
only hope that the harm I have done could ever be repaired, I should
not care much what became of me."
Mrs. Kennedy could not doubt that Sophie spoke the exact truth. She had
observed from the first that she had no disposition to escape from even
more than her just share of blame.
"Since, then," said she, "you do truly and earnestly repent you of your
sins, and are in love and charity with all men, and intend henceforth
to lead a new life, why should you not draw near with faith?"
"I am not in charity with all, mother," said Sophie.
Mrs. Kennedy looked inquiringly at her.
"Neither Carry Woodford nor Martha Prime will speak to me."
"But how is it with you?" asked her mother. "Do you cherish feelings of
anger or resentment towards them?"
"No, mother," answered Sophie, "I am certain I do not. I have no reason
to do so, for I was much the most to blame."
Mrs. Kennedy thought within herself, that the fact of having been the
most to blame, would with many people be reason enough for resentment,
but she said nothing.
And Sophie continued—"I have tried my best to make friends with them,
two or three times, without success and the last time, Carry told me in
so many words, that she wished I would not speak to her again: she said
she did not want any thing to do with me."
"Did you not feel angry with her then?"
"Only for a moment; I do not, now, the least in the world."
"Then it is they who are not in charity with you—not you with them."
"I thought it was just the same, mother."
"Not at all, my dear; if you have tried your best for a reconciliation,
as I doubt not you have, and they remain obstinate, you have no more to
do. I would advise you to drop the matter for the present, and renew
your attempt some other time. Is there any thing else in your way since
this obstacle is disposed of?"
"Only what people will think, mamma. I do not know what will be said
about my coming forward so soon after having behaved so badly."
"You know, my dear, how the Saviour received the woman that anointed
his feet; and Matthew, a publican, was numbered with the apostles. You
cannot suppose that the faults of these people were not very generally
known."
"You always find a passage in the Bible for every thing, mamma," said
Sophie.
"I believe, Sophie," said Mrs. Kennedy, "that there is something there
applicable to every case which can possibly occur to man. But to return
to our great subject: I do not think your late backsliding any reason
for postponing your Confirmation. You have done your best to repair
your fault, and have since been careful to walk circumspectly; you
fully intend to obey God's holy will and commandments and to walk in
the same all the days of your life. You have carefully considered the
subject before, and made up your mind, and I should certainly advise
you to adhere to your resolution."
"I am sure I wish to do so, mother," said Sophie. "It was only the fear
of doing wrong that made me hesitate. It seems as if it must be a great
assistance in doing right."
"Suppose you talk with Dr. Shelby about the matter, Sophie?" suggested
her mother. "He may be able to set your mind at rest."
"I know just what he will say, mamma, but I shall be glad to hear him
talk about any thing. I believe you are right, but I should like to
have a little time to think it over."
Sophie considered, and talked with Dr. Shelby, as her mother
recommended. And she came to the conclusion to go forward, and gave in
her name accordingly.
There were various opinions on the matter when it came to be talked
of in school; some of the girls applauded, while others thought she
might have waited a little before taking such a decisive step. Among
the latter was Martha Prime, who said she thought Sophie might be sick
of making such great pretensions. "She had better wait till we have
forgotten her late performances."
"I don't see why," said Carry Woodford. "Sophie has done the best she
could to make amends, and more a great deal than any one else would
have done."
"Why don't you speak to her, then?" inquired Martha. "She has tried
several times to make friends with you, and you told her in so many
words that you would have nothing to do with her."
"I know it, and I wish I had not done so. The truth is, girls," said
Carry, coloring a good deal, and speaking with effort, "I feel as if
I had behaved very badly to Sophie. It was more that than any thing
else, made me speak to her as I did—because she made me look so mean in
my own eyes. I am a wicked girl, I know, and I wish I was not, but I
cannot help doing justice to people—at least when I am not angry."
"Why do you not make friends with her now?" asked Martha.
"Because I am afraid she would not let me, after all that has passed."
"That is a very good excuse, no doubt," returned Martha, sneeringly.
"But if you feel as you pretend, you ought to be willing to apologize
to her, whether she is civil to you or not. Miss Emma, is not that
Scripture doctrine?" she asked, turning to Emma Gaylord, who had joined
the group in time to hear Carry's confession.
"I believe it is, Martha, but I do not think, Carry, you need be afraid
of Sophie's meeting you unkindly. She would be very glad to be friends
with you and Martha both, I know."
"I shall not trouble her," answered Martha. "I have friends enough
already, without going out of my way for them. Carry may do as she
pleases. Here comes Saint Sophie now. Miss Kennedy!" she continued,
elevating her voice as Sophie entered. "Will you please to come here?"
Sophie came, looking surprised enough.
"Now, Carry," said Martha, "now you have a chance."
Carry colored and hesitated. Martha exchanged a contemptuous glance
with one of the other girls, which roused her spirit, and she said,
though with an unsteady voice, and holding out her hand—
"Sophie, I am sorry I have behaved so badly to you, and been so unkind.
I am ashamed to ask you to forgive me, but I shall be glad if you will."
"I have nothing to forgive," said Sophie, cordially taking Carry's
outstretched hand, and kissing her. "I was more to blame than you but
I am glad you are not angry with me any more. I cannot bear to have a
quarrel with any one."
Carry would have answered, but her voice failed, and tears stood in her
eyes. At last she said, "I wish I were like you. I will never call you
a hypocrite again."
"What an affecting scene!" sneered Martha. "It is a pity there are no
more to witness it." She glanced around the circle, but met with no
response: the feelings of the girls present were clearly against her,
and she walked away with a contemptuous toss of her head, feeling very
much vexed with both Carry and Sophie.
Carry sought Sophie in recess, and had a long private interview with
her, the result of which was, that she went to Miss Warner's room after
school and made an ample apology for all her misconduct. Miss Warner
received it graciously, and had a long conversation with her idle and
careless pupil. She set before her in plain terms the consequences of
the course she was running, and endeavored to arouse her to a sense of
duty and responsibility. She urged it upon her to begin a new course
of life from that moment, and Carry promised to try her best. Miss
Warner did not fail to show her that she could not depend upon her own
strength to help herself, but that she must seek a higher power to
assist her.
From this time Carry was a changed girl. She became quiet and orderly
in school, learned a reasonable quantity of lessons, and absented
herself entirely from the recitation room group, of which she had been
the centre. That society, having lost its principal pillars, gradually
declined and fell into disrepute, to the great improvement of manners
and morals in the school.
As the time approached for the Confirmation, Sophie's mind grew more
and more quiet, and she saw her way fair and clear before her; she
seemed to herself to be putting away childish things, and standing upon
the threshold of a new and important life. She fully appreciated the
privilege of being admitted with God's people to the Blessed Sacrament
of the Body and Blood of Christ, and endeavored to prepare herself
for receiving the full benefits of that holy ordinance. On the day of
the Confirmation she was calm and happy; and with a full sense of her
own weakness, and a humble trust in God, she renewed her baptismal
vows, in the presence of God and the congregation. The next Sunday she
accompanied her mother to the Communion, and there again consecrated
herself to the service of her Maker, Redeemer, and Sanctifier.
Thus, we have accompanied our little friend through several important
years of her life. We have seen her in joy and in sorrow, in sickness
and in health. I hope we may have learned something from her.
A few words will conclude this little history. Sophie held fast through
life the good profession she had professed before so many witnesses.
She met with trials and temptations, and sometimes gave way to them,
but when she fell, she immediately arose. As a daughter and elder
sister, she was beloved at home; and as a teacher and friend, she was
useful abroad. And among her many causes for thankfulness for mercies
bestowed, she accounted it the greatest that she had been provided with
such a mother, to fill the place of the one she had lost.
Laura Bartlett came home after a three years' absence, somewhat
reformed in outward things, and considerably less ignorant than when
she left home. She had acquired a little of a good many things, because
she could not help it, and she had grown very pretty. She had learned
to sit, stand, and walk well, and to dress beautifully; and she made
the most of these acquirements, especially the latter. She never
made any attempt to renew her intimacy with Sophie, though she did
with Carry, but the latter rather declining the honor, Miss Bartlett
contented herself with remarking to her admirers, that "Miss Woodford
had really turned out quite a blue, after all."
Caroline Woodford left school about a year after the Confirmation, and
devoted herself almost exclusively to the care of her grandmother, who
was in very infirm health. This lady was an example of all that is
beautiful in the Christian character; and under her gentle guidance,
Caroline was at last brought to an obedient and humble walking in the
true faith of Christ.
Betsey's mother obtained an excellent situation as nurse in a large
boarding-school, where she is very useful, and very much liked: her
little daughter is being educated in the institution.
Nancy lived to a great age, respected by all who knew her. Her
declining years were made happy by the affectionate attentions of her
master and mistress and their children. And when she died, she was
buried by the side of Sophie's first mother.
Thus having accounted for our principal personages, we take our leave
of our readers (if we should happen to have any) with the best wishes
for their prosperity.
THE END.