MR. AND MRS. GURNEY.
Mr. and Mrs. Gurney sat in their cosy sitting-room, which was
plainly but tastefully furnished; but though quiet, one could not
fail to realize that it was the home of people of more than
ordinary intelligence and culture. They both had passed life's
meridian, and were, at the time we introduce them to our readers,
verging upon three score years. They were dressed in deep
mourning, and the look of subdued sadness which overcast their
thoughtful faces told they had lately "passed under the rod." But
suffering had not made them hard and cynical, but richer in grace
and goodness, riper, sweeter, mellower. Each had learned to say
with Asaph, "My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the
strength of my heart and my portion for ever."
They certainly had reason to mourn. God had blessed them with four
children; children of whom they had just cause to be proud, for
they early displayed talents which marked them as above
mediocrity, but one after another, just after they had reached
manhood and womanhood, they had fallen victims to that insidious
disease, consumption, and the aged couple were left in their
declining years, sad and lonely, like two aged trunks stript of
their foliage, bare and alone.
Mr. Gurney had been for years engaged in the dry goods and
clothing trade, and had intended his last surviving son should
take the business, but Providence had ordered otherwise, taking
him away just at the time when the father was about to carry out
his long cherished scheme.
After they had laid in the grave the body of their beloved, for a
while a cloud of intense sorrow hung over their home, though they
had faith to believe it was lined with the silver of their
Father's love.
They were too intelligent, and their grief was too intense for
much outward manifestation, but each knew the pregnancy of the
other's sorrow from their individual experiences; and by gentle
ministrations of love each endeavored to soothe and ease the
burdened heart of the other.
Mrs. Gurney found some relief in attending to her household
duties--to the plants and flowers in the conservatory--for they
had one of considerable size. This latter had been the special
duty of her daughter who had preceded her brother by a few weeks
to the grave. And as the mother now engaged in this "labor of
love," each plant and flower that received her gentle attention
would suggest some tender recollection of the loved and lost. As
she trained them to their supports and trellises she would
remember that the white fingers which had so frequently and
lovingly performed the task were now cold in death.
But there was one--a night blooming cereus--which was a particular
favorite of Grace's, and which, even after she knew she had not
long to live, she hoped she would be spared to see bloom. But when
she perceived she was failing so rapidly--quietly, peacefully,
sinking to rest--she said--
"Mamma, darling, I have looked forward with a great deal of
expectancy to the time when my cereus should bloom, I now know my
hope in this respect will not be realized, but I want you, mother,
when it opens out its pure white petals and its fragrance perfumes
the midnight air to remember I shall be in heaven--among fairer
flowers, with sweeter perfume; for they have not been cursed by
sin. And while you mourn at my absence remember I am with
Jesus--'Absent from the body, present with the Lord.'"
And now as the mother tended these flowers, and lovingly lingered
near this special favorite, around which such tender memories
lingered, the flood-gates of her soul were mercifully lifted up
and she "eased her poor heart with tears."
Thus the mother, who was constitutionally the frailer of the two,
and was the one from whom the children had inherited the tendency
to the disease which had carried them off so prematurely, seemed
to come back to herself, so to speak, and she soon manifested a
subdued cheerfulness as she set about managing the domestic
economy of her home.
But Mr. Gurney did not recover so rapidly; there seemed to be no
outlet to his feelings--nothing to ease his burdened heart.
He had given his business into the hands of his clerks, and had
concluded to sell out and permanently retire from active life. He
went with his wife on a journey to the seaside, to a quiet
watering-place, hoping that change of scene might divert his
attention from his sorrows and enable him, at least to some
extent, to recover his wonted health and spirits. But he returned
unbenefited, and his wife and friends began to have grave fears
for his life. They consulted an eminent physician, who advised him
not to give up his business, but to devote to it as much of his
attention as his strength would permit; and this advice coinciding
with his own judgment, he concluded to act upon it; but as none of
his employees hardly came up to his ideal of what a managing clerk
should be, he thought he had better advertise for a responsible
man, who thoroughly understood the business, and who could keep
the books, while he could do the buying and attend to the outlying
duties of the firm.
It was in accordance with this idea that he inserted the
advertisement in the _Globe_ which brought Richard Ashton to
answer in person.