Jessie's Great Sorrow.
At the tea-table Emily told a long story about herself and Jessie
wandering away into the woods, and getting sadly frightened. She was very
animated, and, but for Jessie's sad face, and her occasional look of
surprise, might have made herself believed. But that grave face, so
unusual to his darling Jessie, told Uncle Morris that Emily was palming
off a falsehood upon them. Guy also was sure she was telling a lie. When
she had finished her story, he said,
"But did you not hear us shout and halloo?"
"No, indeed. If we had, we could have easily answered back," said the
lying child.
"O Emily!" groaned Jessie.
"We shouted like one o'clock!" said Hugh.
"Pray tell us, Master Hugh, what shouting like one o'clock means?" asked
Uncle Morris, who had a very great dislike to unmeaning phrases.
"Well, very loud, then," replied Hugh, blushing.
"But you didn't shout loud enough for us to hear," said Emily, secretly
pinching Jessie, by way of imposing silence upon her.
"It's very strange," said Guy. "It was certainly not more than ten minutes
from the time we left the quarry, before we saw you coming over the top of
the hill in the pasture, so that you could not have been very far in the
woods when we were shouting like--like--"
"Like boys in search of two young ladies supposed to be lost or _hidden_,"
said Uncle Morris, helping Guy to a comparison, and at the same time
hinting his suspicions of the truth in the case.
Jessie blushed deeply and was about to speak, when Emily, growing fiery
red with anger, said:
"_Well_, if you don't choose to believe me, you needn't, but I don't think
it's very polite to talk to me as if you thought I was telling you a
lie."
Seeing that her young guest was fast losing her temper, and that Master
Charlie was nodding over his empty plate and tea-cup, Mrs. Carlton rose
from the tea-table, and addressing the two girls, said:
"Perhaps, as you are wearied with your excursion, my dears, you had better
retire now, and finish your talk about it to-morrow, when you are rested.
Come, Charlie, open your eyes and go to bed!"
"Let me alone!" growled the drowsy boy, as his aunt took his hand to lift
him from his chair, and lead him from the room.
Jessie sighed, and looked as if she too had a story to tell when she
kissed her Uncle Morris good-night. The old gentleman returned her kiss
very affectionately, and whispered,
"Jessie, you make me think of the proverb which says, _The day that the
little chicken is pleased, is the very day that the hawk takes hold of
him._ Good night, dear!"
Jessie was puzzled, and all the way up-stairs kept saying to herself,
"What can Uncle Morris mean? what can Uncle Morris mean?" And while
undressing she said still to herself, "I can't be the chicken, because I'm
not pleased--but stop--Yes, I was pleased this morning. Perhaps, then, I'm
the chicken. And the hawk--must--be--well--it must be Emily! Ah! I see
now. He thinks Emily has made me do some wrong to-day. And he is right
too. It was wrong to hide away in the quarry. It was worse to pretend not
to hear when the boys called us. That was _acting_ a lie. And it was wrong
for me to keep still when Emily made up that wicked story about our
getting lost. Oh dear! Oh dear! How sorry I am! I wish I hadn't hid away
in the quarry!"
"What makes you look so glum, Miss Solemn Face?" asked Emily, who, without
kneeling down to say her evening prayer, was getting ready for bed as fast
as her nimble fingers could move.
"I am thinking that I did wrong to-day," replied Jessie, sighing deeply
and standing motionless in the middle of the chamber.
"Fig's end! I never knew such a girl as you are. _Wrong_ indeed! Just as
if it was wrong to have a little fun," replied Emily, sneering.
"Fun is not wrong; but it was wrong to alarm Mr. Sherwood and the boys,
about our safety. I know they felt very bad when they thought we were
lost. It was wrong, too, for us to pretend not to hear when they called
us. That was _acting a lie_. And oh, Emily! how _could_ you make up that
wicked story, about our getting lost in the woods!"
Jessie spoke with such deep and solemn feeling, that Emily's conscience
was touched. A slight shudder passed over her as she buried her head in
the pillow, and drew the bed-cover close to her face. Her voice was a
little husky, too, when she replied:
"You are too fussy, by half, Jessie. Good-night!"
"Good-night!" said Jessie; and then dropping to her knees, beside the big
arm-chair, the well-taught child began to think over the events of the
afternoon. The longer she thought, the more guilty she felt. She could not
say her prayers, because her sin rose before her mind like a great, black
cloud. At last, she began to weep and sob, saying in half-audible
whispers:
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I wish I hadn't made believe I didn't hear!
Oh dear! oh dear! what shall I do?"
Emily got up a mock snore, by way of saying, "I'm asleep, and don't know
but that you are asleep too." But she was not asleep, nor did she feel
like sleeping in the least. In fact, she kept peeping over her pillow at
Jessie, and wondering why she felt so bad, until a voice within her,
whispered:
"If Jessie feels bad for yielding to your wishes, how ought _you_ to feel,
who led her astray, and who told such a shocking lie to hide your fault?
Emily Morris! Emily Morris! You are a wicked girl!"
Jessie now rose from her knees, bathed in tears. Wrapping herself in a
dressing-gown, she took the lamp in her hand, left the room, and went,
with slow and heavy steps, down-stairs. Leaving her lamp on the
hall-table, she went into the parlor. Every eye was lifted towards her,
with inquiring glances. She went directly to that sweetest of all earthly
nestling-places for a child in sorrow, her mother's arms, and whispered:
"O mother! I've been a naughty girl to-day!"
Mrs. Carlton drew her closer to her heart, kissed her with great
tenderness, and said:
"What has my child done?"
Jessie wept violently, and was silent, for her heart was too full of
emotion, to coin its thoughts into words. Mrs. Carlton, like a sensible
mother, said nothing until the floods of Jessie's grief passed away. Then
smoothing her head with her hand, she spoke in tones, so soft and
lute-like, that they sounded like sweet music in Jessie's ears, and said:
"Tell me, my dear, what troubles you so much?"
Thus soothed, Jessie raised her head, and said:
"I want Pa and Uncle Morris to hear, too."
Mr. Carlton laid aside his book, smiled, and said:
"I'm all attention, Jessie."
Uncle Morris drew his chair close to Jessie, patted her head, and said:
"That's right, my little puss, make a clean breast of it. Confession is
the pipe through which the great Father conducts the guilt of his little
ones, when, for his Son's sake, he buries it in the fountain of
forgetfulness."
Thus encouraged, Jessie gave a full account of how she came to hide in the
little cave with Emily. When she had finished her story, Uncle Morris
said--
"Ah, I see, the little wizard has been busy again. I'm sure it was he who
helped Emily to tempt my little puss. An _impulse_ acted upon you, Jessie,
and, without thinking, you hid in the cave, which was not a very grave
fault in itself; but, as most little faults will do, it led you to commit
a really serious evil; as you say, by pretending not to hear yourself
called, you _acted a lie_, which was a sin against God. You also filled
your party with alarm about you, which gave them great pain of mind. That
was an offence against them, because it was your duty to do all in your
power to afford them pleasure. The hawk did, indeed, catch my chicken on
the day that she was pleased. Do you understand my proverb, now, Jessie?"
"Yes, Uncle, but what shall I do?"
"Do, my child? There is only one way by which any of us can escape from
the chains of evil. Confess your _sin_ to God, ask his forgiveness for the
Great Shepherd's sake, and apologize to your friends for giving them
pain."
Jessie said she would do both of these things. Then her heart turned to
her cousin, and she said--
"But what shall I say to Emily?"
"Just tell her your own thoughts and feelings about the matter, my child.
Maybe, she will be led to see the wrong of her own conduct, and you may
yet be to her what your brother Guy has been to Richard Duncan."
After making this remark Uncle Morris took the old Family Bible and read a
psalm of penitence. Then he and the family kneeled down to pray. The dear
old man seemed to speak right to the Good Father in behalf of his
sorrowful little niece. And while he pleaded the love of the great
Shepherd for his precious lambs, Jessie felt as if a heavy burden rolled
away from her heart, the big black cloud passed from before her eyes, and
the sweet springs of joy and gladness once more poured their streams over
her happy spirit.
With a light step, Jessie tripped back to her chamber. Emily was still
awake. Thoughts such as she had never cherished before were rushing
through her brain and burning in her heart. She was strongly inclined to
speak to Jessie. But pride set a seal upon her lips, and she kept her eyes
closed in simulated sleep. As for Jessie, after whispering a prayer for
Emily and a song of praise for herself, she laid down beside her cousin
and slept as sweetly as a fairy in a blue-bell, or as a weary angel might
slumber in one of the bright bowers of Paradise. You may be sure her
dreamland was filled with images of love and beauty.
The next morning Jessie awoke wondering how Emily would feel about the
events of the day before. Finding her cousin was also awake, she said--
"Emily!"
"Good morning, Jessie," replied Emily, sitting up in the bed and looking
full in Jessie's face. "I hope you feel more cheery than you did last
night."
"I am very happy this morning," replied Jessie, her eyes sparkling with
delight as she spoke. "Shall I tell you how I came to be so?"
"As you please!" said Emily, shrinking from Jessie's proposal as if she
feared her story might bring back the guilty feeling of the night
previous.
Jessie told her cousin just what she had felt, and how she had confessed
her wrong, and how her sorrow had been rolled away. She did this so
simply, so sweetly, and so kindly, that Emily blushed, and the big tears
stood like dew-drops on her eyelashes. Jessie had found the way to her
cousin's heart.
But when she urged her to confess her faults and to join her in a note of
apology to the Sherwoods, the pride of Emily's heart rose within her, and
dashing away her tears, she said--
"_Apologize_, indeed! I won't do it!"
Just then the ringing of the first breakfast-bell warned them that it was
time to rise. They did so; and Jessie, seeing that her cousin did not wish
to talk any more, dressed herself in silence.
After breakfast Jessie went to her writing-desk, and wrote notes to the
members of the nutting-party. These notes were all alike except in their
different addresses. Here is a copy of the one for Mr. Sherman.
Glen Morris Cottage, October 25, 18--
Dear Sir--
When you thought I was lost yesterday, I was hiding with my cousin in
a little cave in the stone quarry. I only did it for fun. If I had
thought my hiding there would make you feel bad and spoil the
pleasure of our nutting-party, I would not have done it. I am sorry I
did it. Will you, and Walter, and Carrie, please excuse my fault?
Truly Yours,
Jessie Carlton.
Mr. Walter Sherwood, Sen.
When Jessie read one of her notes to Uncle Morris, the good old man patted
her head, and said--
"Nobly and sweetly written, my little puss. Never forget that next to
avoiding a fault, the noblest and most honorable thing you can do, is to
confess it and apologize for it. Still, I hope you may never have need to
write such a note again."
Having finished and sealed her notes, Jessie placed them carefully in the
bottom of her work-basket, intending to ask Hugh to deliver them for her
on his way to school in the afternoon.
It was Mrs. Carlton's wish that during her cousin's visit, her daughter
should spend part of every morning, sewing and reading. Hence, after the
notes were nicely put away, Jessie took out her famous piece of patchwork,
and began sewing. She laughed heartily as she did so this morning, because
she found pieces of paper pinned to the articles intended for Uncle Morris
with these words written on them in large letters--
"Beware of the devices of the little wizard!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed she. "Won't I beware? I'll sew, let me see; well,
I'll sew a strip long enough to go once around my quilt before I stir, let
the little wizard say what he will."
Stitch, stitch, stitch, went Jessie's bright, swift, little needle for the
next half-hour. Then her two cousins bounced into the room, shouting--
"O Jessie, come and see! There is one of the funniest little men out here
you ever did see. He's got no neck, and he wears the queerest sort of a
hat! He's playing on the bagpipe. Come, just a minute."
"Beware of the devices of the little wizard!" said the writing on the
patchwork. It caught Jessie's eye just as she was going to drop her work
and run out to see the funny little man. She felt as if something was
twinging her heart, but remembering her purpose, she brought her work to
her side, and said--
"I thank you, cousins, but you must excuse me until I've finished my
sewing."
"What a cross thing she is!" said Charlie, bouncing out of the room.
"Do come, just for a minute, that's all, cousin Jessie," said Emily in her
most coaxing tones.
Charlie's words wounded Jessie more than Emily's soothed her. Unwilling to
be thought cross, she dropped her work "just for a minute," and went out.
The queer little man excited her mirth greatly, and she soon forgot all
about her patchwork. When the little pipe-player moved off, Emily said--
"Let us follow him up to Carrie Sherwood's. Won't she be tickled to see
him?"
"Yes, do," said Charlie, "and I won't call you cross, Jessie, any more."
"We mustn't stay long, then," replied Jessie reluctantly, for a thought of
her sewing flashed across her brain.
"Of course, we won't," said Emily, as she took her cousin by the hand and
led her away. "We will only stay long enough to see Carrie laugh at the
queer little man."
They went to Carrie Sherwood's, and there they stayed until Walter's
return from school warned Jessie that it was nearly dinner-time. As she
re-entered the parlor she saw Uncle Morris point to her work lying as she
left it on the floor, and heard him say--
"The little wizard has been here again, I see, this morning. How fond he
is of Glen Morris Cottage."
Jessie blushed, ran to her Uncle's side, hid her face in his bosom, and
whispered--
"O Uncle, I never shall conquer that little wizard. He is too strong for
me."
"Never despair! my little puss. Try and try again. Make a new resolve, and
I'll warrant you that the wizard will find Glen Morris Cottage too hot to
hold him one of these days, and then he'll be off to the North Pole to
keep cool, and perhaps to marry Miss Perseverance!"
Jessie laughed at this conceit of her uncle's, and said--
"Uncle, I will try again, and I'll try real hard next time."
"Nobly spoken, my little lady," rejoined Mr. Morris. "Perseverance
conquers all things. It has won victories for warriors; freedom for
oppressed nations; and self-conquest for millions of men, women, and
children. Hold on to your purpose then, my Jessie, and you will yet be
crowned as the conqueror of your troublesome little enemy!"
Jessie sighed, and looked as if she wished the last battle had been
fought, and the crown already placed on her brow.
Poor Jessie! she is not the first miss who has found it hard work to
overcome Little Impulse, the wizard.