FAITH TRIED AND PROVED.
Eunice was sitting alone, and thinking about her father, and waiting
for him to return home. She had made up her mind to approach him on the
subject of his marked depression of spirits, and learn, if possible,
the cause. Eveline was in her own room, and her mother was attending
to some household duty. Many thoughts passed through the mind of the
true-hearted girl. She sat near the window, her eyes looking out upon
the street, but without noticing the passers-by, except as moving
forms indistinctly seen. Deeply had she been pondering, since her
conversation with Eveline, the subject about which they had spoken; and
now her mind was busy with suggestions as to what she could and would
do, if another and still more depressing misfortune had befallen her
father. The result of her thoughts was not altogether satisfactory.
Sacrifices, to almost any extent, she was willing to make, and she was
ready to do to the utmost of her ability; but, all was doubt in regard
to her father’s affairs; and, therefore, her own mind could come to
no fixed conclusions. While she sat thus, she noticed a man pause and
look up at the number of the house; and then ascend the steps and ring
the bell. His appearance was that of a porter, of ordinary laboring
man about a store. The bell was answered by a servant, and then the
man went away. While wondering what message he had left, the servant
entered the parlor, where she was sitting, and handed her a note, which
she said had been left for her. Eunice broke the seal of the envelope
and read:
“DEAR EUNICE:--Two years and more have passed, since you bade me have
faith in time. I have had faith; I still have faith. Long ere this,
had my heart been consulted, I would have sought to know, from your
own lips, whether my faith might still rest in hope. But few weeks
have passed, during all that time, in which I have not looked upon
your face, at least once, and marked, with feelings that I cannot
well describe, the change that was gradually passing over it. To the
distressing events that have occurred since we met, I will not allude
further than to say, that their only effect upon me has been to make
you more beloved; and I cannot tell you how eager I have been to step
forward and tell you this. But, for many reasons that I need not state
at present, I deemed it best to restrain this ardent desire. Now, I
feel that the time has come for me to say that my heart yet beats in
the right place--that you are, as ever, the best beloved; nay, the only
loved. Eunice, shall my faith in time have its due reward? Do you still
feel toward me as you felt ere the interdiction of your father came in
between our heart’s best impulses, and their hoped-for consummation?
Let me hear from you, changed or unchanged. It is time, and full time,
that our future became the present.
“Yours, as ever,
“RUFUS ALBERTSON.”
Hurriedly folding the letter, after she had read it, Eunice arose and
went quickly from the room. In her own chamber she felt more free to
think and feel. For a while every thing but her true-hearted lover was
forgotten. Sweet to her spirit, wearied and well-nigh overburdened,
were the words he had written, and the faith he still held sacred.
Since the stern interference of her father, she had met him but very
few times, and then under circumstances that prevented any free
interchange of sentiments. After the death of her brother, and the
subsequent fall of her family from affluence, she had lived so secluded
a life that no opportunity for a meeting had occurred. Except at
church, on the Sabbath, where she regularly attended, he never saw her,
after the change in her father’s circumstances had excluded her from
fashionable circles.
Patiently had the young man waited for the work of time--patiently
and hopefully. The insult received from Mr. Townsend, on applying for
the hand of Eunice, stung him to the quick, and rankled long after.
But he loved Eunice tenderly and truly, and while he felt that she
obeyed, too implicitly, the arbitrary command of her father, he could
not but respect the filial deference with which she regarded an unjust
requirement. To him, it was a trial that proved the character of his
affection, and the result showed that it was of the right quality.
Long before a suspicion of misfortune had come shadowing the hearts of
Mr. Townsend’s family, Albertson saw the cloud approaching, and knew
that reverses of the most serious character had visited the proud,
uncompromising merchant. Anxiously did he look on and watch the result.
The fact of his investment of nearly all he was worth in United States
Bank stock, he knew immediately after the failure of the Bank. He also
knew, that he did not sell until the stock fell to almost nothing.
With a deep interest in the result, he saw Mr. Townsend again enter
business, with the small remnant of a large fortune as the basis of
his efforts, and struggle vigorously to recover himself. At this point
he would have come forward and renewed his application for the hand
of Eunice; but the manner of her father, whom he met occasionally in
business, was so cold, reserved, and haughty, that he deemed it wisest
to wait a little longer.
At last, the final misfortune came. It happened that Jones, Claire, &
Co. were creditors of the failing house, the large sales to which Mr.
Townsend had guarantied, and Albertson represented his firm in the
meeting of creditors. At the last meeting, when it was clearly apparent
that the loss was well-nigh total, and that no dividend would be made
for a long time, he carefully noted the effect of the transpirance
of this fact upon the father of Eunice; and from what he saw, and his
knowledge of his affairs, he was satisfied that this failure would
totally ruin him, and that even the means of a moderate support for his
family would pass from his hands.
It was now full time, he felt, for him to step forward, and, for the
sake of Eunice, renew his attentions and claim her hand. He therefore
sat down immediately, and wrote and dispatched the letter which Eunice
so unexpectedly received. Anxiously did he await a reply. Two days
passed, yet none came. On the third day, this brief answer was received:
“DEAR ALBERT--Through all the trials and changes that I have been
called to meet, I have remained the same; and to know that your heart
is still true, fills me with inexpressible delight. Time is doing
its work, but all is not yet finished. I have still a sacred duty
to perform, that no considerations, personal to myself, can make me
forego. Still, Albert, dear Albert! let me repeat--Have faith in time.
I cannot say more at present. Write to me again. Write to me often.
Soon, very soon, I trust we shall meet and speak face to face as of old.
“EUNICE”
“Still have faith in time”, murmured Albertson, with some bitterness,
as he finished reading this letter. “Have I not had faith? Have I not
waited long and patiently?”
But, after reading it over again, his feelings changed, and admiration
for the self-sacrificing spirit of the noble-hearted girl filled his
bosom.
“Yes, yes, I will still wait. If so true as a daughter, what will she
not be as a wife? That sacred duty is some devotion of herself for the
well-being of her parents. I must learn what it is, and prevent it.”