CHANGES.
WHEN John came home that night, he saw at once that there was a
change in Letty. Her eyes were still heavy and her face pale; but
the expression of her face was altered; the hard look of stubborn
endurance was gone. Other little signs showed a change in Letty's state
of feeling. Her hair was again neatly and becomingly arranged; the
blinds of the sitting-room were thrown open once more; and a bouquet
of the latest lingering flowers was on the table in Alick's little
silver cup,—a gift from Mr. Trescott. The supper-table was again set in
inviting order, instead of having the dishes thrown on anyhow, as was
Jane's fashion. Moreover, Letty met him at the door,—a thing she had
not done before since Alick's death.
John felt the change. He was not a man of many words at any time; and
any strong feeling only made him more silent. He kissed Letty.
"God bless you, my darling!" said he.
That was all; but Letty felt she was understood.
After supper, John sat down by the window, as usual; but he did not
take his pipe.
"Where's the pipe?" asked Letty.
"Well," replied John, "I have about come to the conclusion, Letty, that
I shall not smoke any more. It is an expensive habit, and, they say,
not a very healthy one,—though I don't know that it has ever hurt me;
but I don't want to make myself a slave to any sensual indulgence: so I
have a mind to see how I can do without tobacco, just for the trial's
sake. I suppose you will not be very sorry to miss the pipe?"
"Why, no," said Letty. "I did not wish to interfere with your
pleasures; but I never did like the pipe; and I used sometimes to think
how I should feel to see—" she pauses a moment, and then went bravely
on,—"to see Alick, perhaps, at thirteen or fourteen, sucking a cigar or
smoking a pipe."
"True," replied John; "I thought of that, too. Have you seen Agnes
to-day?"
"Yes; I went over there a few minutes after Dr. Woodman had gone. I am
afraid they have a great deal of trouble before them, John."
"I am afraid they have, in more ways than one," replied John. "Joe is
making up his mind to give up his present situation."
"That seems a pity, just as he has received such an advance," remarked
Letty. "I thought his position at the chemical works was all that could
be desired. He is foreman: is he not?"
"Yes; and with a good salary. With a little economy, he might easily
clear off the encumbrance on his house and lot; but the business is not
genteel enough to suit him. He talks of going into the cigar and liquor
business with Mr. Van Horn."
"Well, it seems to me, making harmless perfumes and useful chemicals
and medicines is a much more respectable business than selling liquors."
"So it seems to me; but in the one case he is only foreman in a
manufactory, while in the other he will be a partner."
"But such a business, John! And I don't suppose Joseph knows any thing
about it."
"No,—no more than I; but he says Van Horn does. He has been engaged in
it before."
"I don't like that man," said Letty. "I cannot exactly say why; but I
have no confidence in him. Besides, it is such a calling!—Making money
out of the sin and misery of one's fellow-mortals; for that is what
selling liquor amounts to."
"So I told Joe; but he thinks my notions very old-fashioned and narrow.
He says some one must sell liquor, and it may as well be him as any
one else; and, besides, they will only sell at wholesale,—never by the
glass."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Letty. "How would the dram-sellers obtain
their supplies, if not from the wholesale dealers?"
"I am afraid they will make a bad business of it in more ways than
one," said John. "I don't like to have a man give up the work he is
used to, for that which he does not understand, unless there is some
very good reason for it. People much more commonly lose than gain by
such a course."
"But how can he do it?" asked Letty. "Joe has no capital."
"Not a penny; but Van Horn has some part of what is needed, and they
mean to borrow the rest,—upon what security I do not know; for Joe's
house is mortgaged for all that it will carry already, and Van Horn has
no real estate that I can hear of. Joe did not seem inclined to be very
communicative. He appeared to be wonderfully lifted up, I thought, and
was quite inclined to be condescending."
"So was Agnes this afternoon. You should have heard her advising me
about my dress, and talking of the usages of good society," said Letty,
with a little of her old playfulness. "I did not tell her so, but I
could not help thinking that I had seen quite as much good society as
herself. Aunt Train was lamenting again that she had no control over
her own property. She is going to give up her house and live with Agnes
altogether."
"I am sorry for that," said John. "I know how it will end,—in her
having all the work of the household thrown upon her shoulders."
"There is likely to be work enough for everybody," said Letty, sighing.
"I am very much troubled about Madge. Dr. Woodman told me, he thought
there was something the matter with her back; and I have been observing
her closely this afternoon. She has no use of her lower limbs at all."
"May not that be mere weakness?"
"I think not. She can use her arms and hands when she is lying down.
She was playing with her doll this afternoon; but I tried her in
various ways, and she does not move her feet in the least, nor can she
hold herself upright. Agnes does not seem to see that there is any
thing wrong, and I did not talk to her about the matter; but I cannot
help fearing that she will be helpless a long time,—if she ever walks
again. Aunt Train said she was coming over this evening to ask your
advice on some matter of business. She did not tell me what."
"I hope she is not thinking of selling her house and putting the money
into Joe's new business," said John. "I certainly shall not advise her
to do that. But I am sorry to hear such an account of the little girl.
What does the doctor say?"
"It was he who first spoke to me of her being in a bad way," said
Letty. "He asked me to observe her. What will they do if Madge should
turn out like Emily Trescott?"
"It would be very hard upon them, no doubt, and hard also for the
child," said John. "Agnes does not seem like the woman to devote
herself to a helpless child."
"Oh, you cannot tell. It may change her entirely."
"How does she seem affected by the baby's death?"
"Why, really, John, it seems a hard thing to say, and I would not say
it to any one but you, but really Agnes seems to me to think more of
her mourning-dress than any thing else. She talked, all the time I was
there, about whether she ought to put on crape for so young a child;
but concluded by saying that, as there had been two deaths in the
family, it would not be out of the way. She gave me quite a lecture
about wearing my old coloured calico in the morning, and, as I said,
was very superior and condescending. She seems to think, somehow, that
she has a great deal to forgive me for:—indeed, she said that if I had
not been sick and in trouble, she could not have overlooked my conduct."
"Conduct in what?" asked John.
"I don't know. I suppose, in not going there while the baby was sick."
"A good many women would never have spoken to her again, after what she
did," said John. "I confess I find it a good deal easier to forgive her
when I don't see her than when I do."
"I shall always feel that she was very much to blame," said Letty. "I
hope I have forgiven her; but I never can justify her conduct. The best
way is not to think of the matter more than one can help. I told her
I thought there was a good deal to forgive on the other side; but she
could not see what. I do not think she has the least idea that she has
been to blame; and she seems to consider that our trial is nothing to
hers. She says I do not feel things as she does, and that—But there is
no use in repeating what she says. The simple truth is that Agnes and I
do not suit each other. We have different ideas and feelings,—different
ways of looking at every thing. I sometimes think we should have been
better friends if we lived farther apart."
"It may be so. I have sometimes thought that it was not altogether a
good thing for married relations to be settled too near each other. You
remember John Burns and his brother-in-law? They were very good friends
so long as they lived at opposite ends of the town; but by-and-by they
took a fancy to build houses on the same lot, and after that there was
no more peace. The families were always in hot water."
"I think it depends a good deal upon the relations," remarked Letty.
"You do not think we should ever have quarrelled with Aunt Eunice, do
you,—even if we had lived under the same roof?"
"No, probably not; nor will we quarrel with Agnes. If we must come to
that, we will simply let her alone. I am glad to hear you say that you
forgive Agnes."
"I never could have done it alone," replied Letty. "It was Dr. Woodman
who showed me the way out of my trouble."
"And that was—"
"'The Way,'" said Letty, softly. "'The Way, the Truth and the Life.'
He showed me how to throw all the burden of my sins on Jesus, and let
Him do his own work in saving me from it. I have been very wrong,
John; I have been hard and ungrateful to God and you and every one;
but I hope things are better now. I have so much left. And my boy is
not lost! He is being kept safely for me, where I shall see him never
to lose him again. And, oh, John, I can be thankful that he was not
left to suffer,—as Emily Trescott did, and as I fear Madge is destined
to suffer. Agnes was right,—though she did not know what she was
saying:—my trial is nothing to hers. I cannot be angry with her, when I
think what is before her."
"These last days have been very dark to me," said John; "but I trust
now all is well."
As he saw Mrs. Train coming in, he added, "Here comes Aunt Train. I
suppose she has done like other people who ask advice,—made up her mind
beforehand, and now wants confirmation in her resolution. She will
never get it from me, I am sure of that."
It soon appeared that John was in the right Mrs. Train was evidently
dazzled by the prospect of Joe's going into business for himself,
and with such a grand person as Mr. Van Horn. She had, as John said,
made up her mind before asking counsel; and she looked very much
disappointed when he strongly advised her to keep her house in her own
hands.
"But what is the use of my keeping the house in my own hands, when I
have made up my mind to live with Agnes?" said she, peevishly. "It will
only be a burden to me."
"You can easily rent it," said John. "Such houses never go begging.
Besides, you may not always wish to live with Agnes. I do not like to
have you give up your independence."
"You talk as though you thought my children were determined to cheat
me," said Mrs. Train. "I don't like such suspicions: they look as if
folks judged others by themselves."
"Not at all," returned John, with unruffled temper, while Letty flushed
and looked indignant. "I have a good opinion of Joe's honesty."
"Then it is Mr. Van Horn, I suppose. What do you know to his
disadvantage?"
"I know nothing at all about him, except that he and his wife have very
expensive habits," replied John. "But the very fact that I know nothing
about him is enough to make me uneasy at seeing all your capital put
into his hands."
"It is not all my capital," replied Mrs. Train. "There is the money
Aunt Eunice left me."
"A life-interest is not capital, exactly," said John, dryly; "and two
hundred a year, without your house, is hardly enough to support you."
"It would have been more than a life-interest if I had had my right,"
said Mrs. Train, sharply. "I shall always think there was something
wrong about that affair."
"I do not well see what there could wrong about it," said John. "I
suppose Aunt Eunice's will was a surprise to everybody. I am sure it
was so to me; and I think it must have been to you; for I remember
your telling me, before I was married, that the old lady had only a
life-interest in her husband's estate, and that she could not have
saved much, for she was always giving away. I see nothing in the will
to cause surprise, since Letty was as nearly related to her as Agnes,
and had always seen a great deal more of her."
"Well, well, all that does not matter now," said Mrs. Train, rather
impatiently. "She had her own way; and that is all about it. The
question is, whether I shall put what I have now into Joe's new
business. He says he is sure to double the amount in a few years."
"And I have no doubt at all that he thinks so. Joe is naturally
sanguine, and apt to be taken with new enterprises just because they
are new; but he is going into a business which he does not understand,
with a partner of whom he knows little or nothing and about, whom I
cannot find out that any one else knows any more. I confess, I have
very great fears for his success. Besides, I have another reason. I
look upon the business in itself as wrong, and especially dangerous to
young men. You would not like to have your money go to help make Joe,
or any one else, a drunkard?"
Mrs. Train winced a little. "I do not think there is any danger," said
she. "Joe has always been steady."
"If there is no danger to himself, there is plenty to other people,"
said Letty.
"But some one must sell liquor—"
"I don't see the necessity," interrupted Letty.
"And it is not the wholesale dealers who make the drunkards," pursued
Mrs. Train. "It is those miserable little dram-sellers."
"Who supplies the dram-sellers?" asked John. "Is it any better for a
man to furnish Weapons which he knows will be used for murder, than it
is to do the murder himself?"
"Drinking is not murder," said Mrs. Train.
"Very commonly it is the worst kind of murder," replied John. "Do
you remember poor Harry Welles? Would it not have been better for
Harry to be killed at once than to run the career he did? The man who
kills another has no more that he can do; he cannot hurt the soul of
his victim, which may pass at once to God; but he who makes a man a
drunkard helps to cast body and soul into hell!
"Can you think with any complacency of seeing at the left hand of God
even one poor soul whom your money has helped to send into the place of
torment? Suppose that Joe were ever so successful: would any income of
capital compensate you for that sight? What will money be to you then?
Remember what is said of him who offends one of God's little ones!"
"Then you think every one who deals in liquor is no better than a
murderer?" said Mrs. Train. "I think you judge very uncharitably."
"I do not judge at all: it is God's word which judges," replied John.
"But, to answer your remark: I do not see how the man who makes a
living out of the sin and ruin of his neighbour is any better than a
murderer. Is it not much worse to be the means of the soul's death than
of the death of the body?"
"But a great many people in the best society both sell and drink
liquor."
"There was a time when all the best society went to see women stripped
and thrown naked to wild beasts," said John. "Did that make it right?
The usage of the world is not the standard of Christians."
"But Joe is not a Christian, you know; he is not a member of any
church."
"If he is not, he ought to be. He cannot excuse himself, when he is
called to his final account, by saying, 'O Lord, thou knowest I never
pretended to serve thee; and therefore I am not to blame.' Neither is
there one standard for church-members and another for the rest of the
world. What is right is right, and what is wrong is wrong."
"I don't like this new fashion of mixing religion with every thing,"
said Mrs. Train. "It seems to me too sacred to be used in that way."
"If so, we are not responsible; since we are told, upon the best
authority, that even eating and drinking are to be done to the glory of
God."
"Well," said Mrs. Train, with an air of superiority, "I shall consider
what you have said,—though I think you are entirely governed by your
prejudices. I suppose, however, it is only natural that you and Letty
should feel a little sore at seeing Joe and Agnes going before you,
after all your scrimping and saving. Now, you needn't flash out in a
passion, Letty: I am sure that is not very Christian."
"I have not said any thing," said Letty, smiling.
"No; perhaps not: it would be better if you did. I would much rather
people would say out what is in their minds than that they should keep
it in and brood over it, as you do. But you will always be the same,
Letty, to the end of your days."
"I hope so," said John. "I should not like to have any other Letty
in her place. As to Joe's going before us, I can honestly say that I
should like to see him with a hundred thousand dollars in his purse,
provided he acquired it in any lawful business. But, for the reasons
I have given you, I cannot look upon liquor-selling in any other
light than that I have put it in. I would as soon see Joe keeping a
gambling-house as a liquor-store."
"You had better tell him so."
"I have told him so. I felt bound to give him my full and honest
opinion when he asked for it. I am glad to say that he was not in the
least offended. Joe is naturally an amiable person, I know; which makes
me the more anxious that he should not be misled."
As Mrs. Train left, she said, "I am glad to see you looking so much
better and more cheerful, Letty. It is a happy thing when people can
throw off their troubles and forget them so easily."
"I do not forget," said Letty, gently, while the tears gathered in
her eyes. "I have no desire to forget; but I try to remember what I
have left, as well as what I have lost for a time. So long as John and
myself are left to each other with undiminished love and respect, we
should be very wrong to give way to despair. God has been very good
to me all my life; and I do believe he is so still,—though I cannot
understand the reason of all that he does."
"'What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter,'" said
John. "He could not cease to be good, unless he ceased to be God."
"Well," said Mrs. Train, more gently, "I will say for you, and for
Letty too, that you seem to take real comfort in your religion. I wish
I could do as much."
"Perhaps you could, if you had the right kind," said John. "I should
suppose that a religion which will not bear mixing up with the common
affairs of life could not give much comfort to anybody. For my own
part, I want a religion that I can carry with me to the workshop and
the lumber-yard, and build into the new houses I am putting up. I hope
you are not offended with my plain speaking?"
"Oh, no; I am not offended," replied Mrs. Train. "I can make
allowances."
"And will you not think about what I have said?" urged John, as he went
down and opened the gate for Mrs. Train. "Depend upon it, my view is
the right one."
"Oh, yes; I will think of it," said Mrs. Train; "but there is no great
use in that. Indeed, I all-but told Mr. Gardiner this morning that he
could have the house. I suppose he considers it a bargain."
"I told you so," said John, when he returned to the house. "She has
made a bargain for her place already. However, I have spoken my mind,
and my hands are clear. I am glad you kept your temper."
"Somehow, I did not care," said Letty. "I felt so sorry for her, I
could not be angry."
"She is going to make a bad business of it," said John. "I am afraid
they will lose all they have in the world; and I shall be glad if that
is the worst of the affair."