The next morning Mrs. Grey settled herself comfortably near the fire,
to enjoy one of the luxuries in which she indulged herself--the daily
paper. She liked to know what was going on in the world. But as her eye
ran leisurely from column to column, it was suddenly arrested, and she
seemed turned into stone.
"Oh, mamma darling, what is it?" cried Laura, running to her side, and
seizing her hands. "Why, you are as cold as ice!"
Mrs. Grey tried to speak, but could not; she pointed to a paragraph,
however, and Laura read:
"It gives us great pain to announce that the President of the ---- bank
is under arrest on a very grave charge. His books have been seized,
and are to be thoroughly examined. We make this statement reluctantly,
trusting that Mr. Grey will come triumphantly forth from this ordeal."
"What horrid, shameful stuff and nonsense!" cried Laura, indignantly.
"Oh, mamma, you look ten years older than you did."
"I have lived a hundred," faltered Mrs. Grey.
"Why, mamma! you don't mean that you believe any of these lies?"
demanded Laura, amazed.
"Oh, I don't know what I believe. I am stunned."
"Frank Grey accused of crime? Frank Grey under arrest? I don't believe
a word about it!" cried Laura. "He is utterly incapable of anything
wrong!"
"Don't say that, my child. We are all capable of _every_ thing wrong if
left to ourselves. Try to think for me. I am so bewildered. Oh, I have
been too proud of that boy. And I have been too cold and unsympathizing
towards distracted parents. I needed this blow. When does the next
train leave?"
"At 10.40. Yes, of course you must go," said Laura, overawed by her
mother's anguish. "And Mary must go too, you are in no state to travel
alone."
Mrs. Grey made no remonstrance; for the first time in her life, she
became passive in the hands of others, and let them act for her.
"Mamma, you weren't like this when darling Maud died," said Laura.
"When darling Maud died," repeated Mrs. Grey, dreamily. Then after
silent reflection she said, "Maud died; yes, but Maud was not accused
of crime. To lay away a lovely child in the grave is nothing--nothing,
by the side of this horror."
"Such a man as Frank can live down disgrace," said Laura.
"Disgrace!" repeated Mrs. Grey, "what care I for disgrace? It is sin
against God that makes me shudder; the bare suspicion that my boy has
wounded my Master." And now, as if the mention of that sacred name was
a gigantic power, her passing weakness disappeared, and the prompt,
resolute, strong woman stood equipped for her journey.
And on the way to her son, her prayers rushed like the engine that bore
her to his presence, straight to their end, and she began to reproach
herself for her want of faith.
"Am I to fancy that my children can break through the hedge my prayers
have built about them?" she asked herself. "Suppose Frank has been
sorely tempted, am I to forget that he belongs to a covenant-keeping
God?"
Day and night they flew on; at one station they were joined by Cyril
Heath.
"Belle thought I should intercept you," he said, cheerily. "I hope this
miserable business is not weighing upon you, _mother_," tenderly using
this word for the first time.
"The shock has been terrible," she replied; "I never could have
believed I so little knew what trouble meant."
"You do not mean to say that you have the slightest suspicion that
these rumors have any foundation in truth? I have none, nor has Belle."
"I am afraid my faith in human nature is not as strong as it was twenty
years ago. But I ought to have faith in God as a Hearer of prayer, and
thought I had."
"You have the strongest faith of any one I know, except my dear Belle,"
he said decidedly. "This shock has staggered you, but you will get over
it. Ah, here we are! And whose bright face is that in the crowd--if it
isn't Frank's? Hurrah!"
In a moment Frank bounded into the train, his face aglow with health
and happiness.
"I knew you would come," he said, "and I made a nice calculation as to
when. But I did not expect you, Cyril. How are you, old fellow? Come,
here's the carriage, and Lily in it, waiting for you."
"What a ridiculous old goose I am," said Mrs. Grey to herself. "The
idea of distrusting a man with such a face."
On reaching home Frank could hardly do enough for the travelers, to
show his appreciation of their sympathy.
"The charge came upon me like a thunder-clap," he said, "and at first
I was inclined to treat it as a joke. It is the work of a clerk, whom
I had discharged for dishonesty, and who thirsted for revenge. He was
under suspicion for a long time before I could convict him of theft,
and then he begged so hard for mercy, and expressed so much penitence,
that I forgave him. I had no right to employ him, however, for the
money under my control was mine in trust for others, and not to be
risked. The injury he has done me is a temporary one; that done to
himself is irreparable."
"Has he a family?"
"Yes, a poor old mother and three sisters dependent upon him."
"We must do something for them, poor things."
"Yes, of course. They are in great distress. As to myself, the main
question after all is, have I a clear conscience; I am sure, mother,
you never doubted that, who trained it with such care?"
"I distrust everything but God," she replied, "and even my faith in Him
wavered when I read that terrible paragraph. All my prayers for you,
all my instructions and labors, seemed for the time thrown away."
"That is like your mother's usual self-distrust," said Cyril Heath,
"not want of faith in you, Frank."
"Thank you for that suggestion," said Mrs. Grey. "Well, we must send
dispatches to Laura, and Margaret, and Belle, at once. You ought to
have seen Laura's righteous indignation! It isn't a bad thing for
people to find out how they love each other, through some emergency
like this. How do you suppose a mother feels when she hears that her
first-born son is under arrest? Were you really suspected to that
degree?"
"Yes; and I am at large now only on bail."
"And how soon do you expect to clear yourself?"
"I don't know; there may be complications I do not foresee. But I shall
come out all right in the end."
"Do you stand, with your friends, as you did before these charges?"
"With most of them I do. There were any number of them ready to go bail
for me to any amount. Outsiders may look at the matter differently. I
have taken a very decided religious stand here, and that has prejudiced
some men against me, who are very glad to make a handle of this thing
to injure the cause of Christ. I am inclined to think that, sooner
or later, every one of His faithful disciples will have to suffer
something, not only for, but _with_ Him; if we do aggressive work for
Him, we must expect aggression in return."
"I am glad you have learned that."
"Well--yes, but I have been swallowing a bitter pill. If I was ever
proud of anything, it was of being the very soul of honor. If I could
commit the most tempting sin on earth, unknown to all humanity, unknown
even to God, I wouldn't commit it."
"My dear boy, I believe you. But it won't do to be proud even of
sinlessness. Our only true attitude before God is one of absolute,
constant self-distrust. I have known of men standing on as apparently
secure ground as yours, and fancying they could never be moved, fall at
last."
"Into ruin?"
"No; a redeemed soul can only fall partially. In the midst of his
deepest degradation, he can look on Christ, and say to the Tempter,
'Rejoice not over me, mine enemy; when I fall I shall arise again.'"
The affair proved more annoying than Frank Grey had believed it could
be. There are any number of people who respect a man while he is up,
who will kick him when he is down. Every detail of his life was paraded
out for public inspection; all that was most sacred to him was fingered
by soiled hands. But for his mother's presence, and faith and prayers,
he would have been overwhelmed, for his wife was unto him in this sea
of trouble, just what she would have been if he were struggling in
mid-ocean, a drag, a dead weight.
But it does not hurt a true soul to be tested, even by fire. It comes
out stronger, surer, safer, better fitted than ever for the true
purposes of life.
After a long, hard struggle, Frank Grey came forth from the conflict
with as clear a record in his hand, and as pure a light in his eye, as
was ever known to mortal man. But there was no unseemly triumph, or
blowing of trumpets on his part, or his mother's. Both felt that they
had been humbled under the hand of God, and walked softly before Him.
And in this mood she wrote an eloquent letter to Mr. and Mrs. Thayer,
owning that the sharp experience of the past weeks had quickened her
sympathy with them in their parental cares and trials, and assuring
them that they might rely upon her friendly services, should they again
be needed.
She was now at leisure to cast a scrutinizing, but kindly eye at the
little world she had so suddenly entered, and saw much that needed
correction. Some of the children were like their mother, and she got
along with them comfortably enough. But she had next to no control
over the others, and had to coax, manage, and bribe them into the
little proprieties a mother should require. The table was not neatly
arranged; the children's clothes were untidy; dust lay everywhere.
The most incomprehensible thing about it was, that Frank, who used to
be fastidious about all such matters, did not seem to care how things
went. The boys helped themselves to what they wanted; the girls had
their wardrobes as nearly in common as their different ages permitted.
"Frankie, dear," his mother would drawl out, "aren't you afraid so much
mince-pie will make you ill, as it did last week?" And "Frankie, dear,
would you mind beating that drum out of doors; it makes my head ache to
have it so near." Or,
"Frankie, dear, Cyril says those are his mittens; take them off, do,
and let him have them; I can't bear to hear him cry so."
She had got a habit of whining and crooning over them, of which she was
unconscious, in fact she was not conscious of any of her defects. Frank
had always said his wife must be amiable, and in one sense Lily was so;
but she had not strength of character enough to get angry on, and in
her ill-ordered household she was beginning to grow, not morose, not
crusty, but nervously peevish.
Mrs. Grey kept congratulating herself that she had come to see all
these evils, and then kept asking herself what she was going to do
about it.
She concluded, at last, to begin on a very small matter.
"Lily, dear, do not let my being here confine you to me. You must be
wanting to use this delightful weather for your spring shopping."
"There isn't any hurry about that."
"You know hot weather may be upon us any day. I have written to Laura
to do Margaret's shopping for her at once."
"I don't think it will be hot. I hate to have to see to dress-making."
"I'm afraid Frank keeps you low in funds."
"He gives me all I want."
"Wouldn't it be well, then, to dress the children a little better?"
"I thought you believed in dressing them simply."
"I do. But they need not be shabby, dear."
"It is a great deal of trouble to keep them looking nice. Frank and
Cyril get holes in their knees the first thing I know; and the girls
tear and stain their dresses so that I can't keep them looking decent."
"Well, I shouldn't mind doing the spring shopping for you," said Mrs.
Grey, briskly. She hated shopping, cordially; but these ragged children
must be taken in hand by somebody.
"Shouldn't you mind it, really?" asked Lily, brightening a little.
"It tires me to go out, I go so seldom. And I wish you would take the
children in hand, as well as their wardrobes. I can't do anything with
them."
"Nor can I do much in the little time I am here. But if you will try
not to be hurt, I will make a suggestion to you. These turbulent boys
are too much for you, and are wearing your nerves all out. They would
be better off away from home, provided you could find just the right
place for them. And, if you and Frank think best, I will take Gabrielle
home with me, and see what I can make of her."
"Would you, really? What a relief it would be! She and Annabelle
torment me and each other. Frank does not see enough of the children to
know how they behave. He makes them obey him, and on Sundays does the
best he can for them; but somehow our home isn't peaceful and pleasant,
though I have such a good disposition, and am never angry with the
children."
"Frank is not confined to his business all day; could he not contrive
to look after the children more?"
"I don't know. He is on ever so many committees, and is superintendent
of the Sunday-school, and our minister wants him here and there and
everywhere. He is so energetic and bright, and people think so much of
him, that he has no time. Then the letters he has to write! But if the
children do anything _very_ bad, he lets everything go till he has seen
to them."
"Frank would not have married this poor, languid, inefficient woman
if I had had the faith I ought," thought Mrs. Grey. "But she is not
accountable for gifts never afforded her, dear child."
That evening Lily went early to bed with an attack of neuralgia brought
on by one of her fruitless attempts to subdue Frank. Mrs. Grey seized
the opportunity to talk with the boy's father on the subject of sending
him from home.
To her surprise, he at once yielded to her suggestions.
"You understand human nature well enough," he said, "to know that while
I may allow that my wife has disappointed me in some things, I can't
stand it to hear a word said against her, even by you. I love her; and
though I wish she had more energy of character, and kept my house and
my children in better order, I would not change her for any other
woman I know."
"I should hope not!" was the reply. "And I think if the three elder
children were off her hands she would have better health, and look
after the house more."
"I shouldn't like to send Gabrielle to a boarding school," he said.
"Nor would I have you do it. I propose to take her home with me."
Grateful tears filled Frank's eyes as this unexpected offer fell upon
his ear.
"Oh, mother!" he cried, "if you knew how many times I have wished this
could be! If our eldest girl could be trained by you, this home of ours
would, by and by, be transformed."
"I cannot work miracles," she replied, "but I am more than willing to
try to benefit Gabrielle. Now about the boys; have they any vices?"
"No, indeed. They are just two great hearty, healthy, noisy fellows,
not at all obstinate when I take them in hand, but too much for their
delicate little mother."
"Are they truthful?"
"Yes. Never knew either of them to tell a falsehood."
"Then I think I can kill two birds with one stone. Belle and Cyril
have a hard time with his insufficient salary, and I think they might
be induced to take charge of your boys. Cyril needs more books, and
Belle needs a good seamstress; you can afford to pay a fair price for
advantages money alone could not purchase. I don't think they would, on
a mere pecuniary consideration, burden themselves with new cares. But
they do not live for what they can get, but for what they can do."
"You have made me almost a boy again," he replied; "you have lifted my
greatest cares off my shoulders."
"Well, do write to Cyril to-night, and I will write to Belle; then,
if they agree to the plan, the boys can start with me, and be left at
Lancaster."
Frank wrote his letter, and Mrs. Grey wrote hers; this was Belle's
reply:
DEAREST MAMMA:--When your letter first reached us, I thought the
project almost insane, and so did Cyril. But we prayed over it, and
altered our minds. I would not take any other boys in the world; but
dear Frank always was my favorite brother, and if I can help him in
this emergency I will. Poor little Lily never was made to cope with
such embodiments of health and mischief as Frank and Cil; but I am
now in excellent health, and will do my best for them. How little I
foresaw that my daily prayers for these children were going to bring
them under our roof! Pray for me, darling mamma, that I may win their
confidence and love, and be as true to them as to my own precious
ones. As to Cyril, you know his doctrine--that it is the mother who
should rule the house, and beyond setting them a perfectly beautiful
example and frolicking with them, he will do nothing for them. Give a
great deal of love to Frank and Lily. Of course you will stop, on your
way home, to see our babies. I think we are just about as happy in
each other, our children, our work, everything, as we can be. If you
don't believe it, come and see!
Your loving, devoted BELLE.
Lily's neuralgia confined her to her room six weeks, during which time
she suffered so much that Mrs. Grey had to attend to everything; and
she took the opportunity to reconstruct the household. Perfect order
and cleanliness reigned supreme; inefficient servants were replaced by
reliable ones; the children were made neat and tidy, and Frank took his
meals from a bountiful, well-ordered table, with great satisfaction.
All this took more time, thought, patience, and energy than any
man can imagine. It is part of woman's lot to do a large amount of
unappreciated work. And the sick-room claimed attention, too. Lily
had no relatives living to come to care for her when ill, and it was
a great relief to be nursed by experienced hands. Mrs. Grey and Mary
took the whole charge of her; bore with her faint-heartedness and
childishness, prepared her food, kept her in fresh and dainty white
dressing-gowns and caps, and at last pulled her through. They were
veterans in sick-rooms, and had long worked manfully together.