REPENTANCE.
August at the seaside, its sultry sunbeams softened by a breeze from the
ocean, bringing health and vigour to worn-out frames, calmness and
relief to overworked brains, and rest to the toilers in the battlefield
of life. There is peace in the movement of the rippling waves, peace
even in the sound as they dash lazily on the shore, and a feeling of
rest in the aspect of the calm, smooth water, when its flowing tide is
scarcely perceptible, and boats with their white sails are mirrored in
its depths.
In the afternoon of a sultry day in August two gentlemen might be seen
near the open window of a drawing-room in the Isle of Wight.
One of them is lying on a couch drawn close to the window, his pale face
and delicate features plainly denoting a state of convalescence after a
severe attack of illness. The eyes are large and bright, and the hair
after a growth of six weeks just covers the head. The hands are thin and
delicate, and the whole appearance and attitude betoken great weakness.
"Have you quite got over the fatigue of the journey, Arthur?" asks the
other gentleman, in whom we recognise Henry Halford.
"Yes, quite," was the reply; "I am not so weak as I appear, Henry; I
walked on the beach for a long distance this morning, and that accounts
for my languid condition now. How are the little ones?"
"Quite well and happy, Arthur, and all send their love to papa and
Clara. Where is she?"
"I sent her out with the nurse, she is assiduous in her attentions to
me, and I am obliged to enforce the necessity of a walk sometimes. Dear
child, I used to fear she would grow up forward and pert as well as
precocious. These troubles seem to have sobered her, yet it very much
interferes with the formation of a girl's character when she looks so
womanly at sixteen as Clara does."
While Arthur Franklyn spoke, Henry could not avoid comparing the style
of his present conversation to the light-hearted, jocular talk of olden
times, proving that trouble had sobered the father as well as the
daughter.
"Shall I leave you to have a little nap before dinner, Arthur?" he said.
"No, Henry, there are so many things on my mind that I wish to talk
about, and you would answer no questions nor hear anything I had to say
when we first arrived; but I have been here a week, and I feel so much
stronger and better, there can be no possible objection now."
"I am half-afraid to allow you to excite yourself, Arthur; would it not
be wiser to wait another week?"
"No, no, Henry, you cannot tell what a relief it will be to my mind to
unburden my heart to you. We shall not be interrupted, for I desired
nurse to keep Clara out till four o'clock; this anxiety retards my
recovery."
"Well, my dear fellow, if it will really help you to get well I am ready
to listen and answer questions, but remember you are not to excite
yourself;" and Henry Halford drew a chair near his brother-in-law's
couch and seated himself to listen.
"First then," said Arthur, "tell me one thing--did I rave about a carpet
bag in my delirium?"
"Well, yes," said Henry, wonderingly; "I suppose it must have fallen
with you into the river."
"Has it been found?"
"It was not brought to Englefield Grange for weeks after your accident;
the bag and its contents are in a terrible condition from the action of
the water."
"Were any papers amongst the _debris_?"
"One, completely reduced to a pulp, the writing upon it scarcely
legible; it appeared quite useless, so I burnt it!"
"Thank God!" and Arthur as he spoke closed his eyes, and clasped his
hands, showing that the words were not a mere commonplace expression,
but came direct from the heart.
Henry Halford looked at him in surprised silence. Presently Arthur
startled him by rising suddenly and laying his hand on his brother's
arm.
"Henry," he said, "don't shrink from me with horror; on that paper which
you have destroyed I had forged my dead wife's name after her death."
"Arthur, my dear fellow," said Henry, "pray lie down and compose
yourself; I feared you would get excited. If you will lie quiet for
awhile we can talk about this paper by-and-by."
"You think my brain is becoming disturbed again," said Arthur, lying
back quietly at Henry's bidding, "but indeed I am telling you the truth.
I have not yet dared to utter a word to anyone on the subject, and if
you will not listen to me I must carry the burden with me to my grave."
Quite convinced by the calm tones and the earnest words, Henry Halford
placed his hand on the arm of his brother, and said, "Have you taken
your burden to God, Arthur?"
"Ah, that is what dear Fanny would have said; but how could I venture to
take my trouble there, when it is caused by sin, and is therefore my
just punishment?"
"Arthur," said Henry, "while you were a boy at my father's school, did
you not study your Bible sufficiently to know how ready God is to pardon
and forgive?"
"I have forgotten Him for years, Henry, and He left me to myself to
fall. But let me tell you all the circumstances. That document in the
carpet bag, if I had taken it to Australia and negotiated it there, as I
quite intended to do, would have no doubt led to my conviction as a
forger; I can see it now clearly, and I must have been mad at the time
to suppose I could so act and escape. The truth is, I married my second
wife under false pretences; she supposed I was well off, and yet I had
no income, and my debts in Melbourne amounted to more than 1000_l._ I
could not, therefore, make any inquiries about Louisa's power over her
fortune, from a dread of questions from her friends about myself. After
our marriage she gave into my hands a few hundred pounds which she had
in the bank; but when I stated to her that I required more to obtain a
partnership in a firm, I discovered that her property was invested in
the power of trustees, one of whom resided in England. I gladly availed
myself of the opportunity for bringing over my children to visit their
mother's relations, and proposed that if Louisa would agree to advance
me 2000_l._ we could obtain the signature of her trustee in Australia,
and forward the document by mail to England, so as to be ready for
completion when we arrived.
"On the morning of poor Louisa's death all necessary arrangements had
been made. Her trustee in England had signed the document, and her
signature only in the presence of a witness was needed to complete it.
Mr. Norton engaged to meet us at Englefield Grange on that evening to
witness the signature, and you will remember he called, but I was unable
even to speak to him."
Henry silently assented, and Arthur went on. "I cannot describe to you
the agonies of that night. The 2000_l._, part of which was to pay my
debts, had slipped from my grasp; ruin to myself and my children stared
me in the face. I had a little flask of brandy in my pocket, which we
had brought with us on the journey. I am not accustomed to spirits, and
the brandy I drank that night first exhilarated and then almost maddened
me. In a kind of frenzy I sat for an hour imitating on scraps of paper
Louisa's writing, and that of another, whose name I need not mention.
And then, oh, Henry! I signed the two names on the document, and one of
them was, to all appearance, the handwriting of the dead! During that
dreadful week I kept up my courage with that fatal spirit. You all
attributed my stupefied and callous manner to the shock of Louisa's
death, and pitied and sympathised with me. I left you and came to
London, with the determination to sail as quickly as possible to
Australia, that I might obtain money on the deed, and turn it to account
in some speculation which would enable me to refund the money and
recover the document before it was sent to England. It was a wild
scheme, such a one as Satan often uses to lead on his victims to their
destruction. I can see that now; I was saved from farther sin by the
accident, and painful as my punishment has been, I trust I am thankful
for it."
"But," said Henry, "why did you not carry the paper in your pocket
book?"
"Henry, I dared not risk it; I seemed to have the presentiment of an
accident, and dreaded the discovery of the paper upon my person. When I
found myself falling on that day of sorrows, and felt the carpet bag
slip from my hand, I cannot describe my feelings; no wonder I raved
about it in my delirium."
"It is a most painful history," said Henry, after a pause, "and you may
well be thankful for the accident which saved you from further sin, and
perhaps disgrace. I need not ask whether you have repented, Arthur, for
indeed your act was a breach of the laws both of God and man. It
was----"
"Don't hesitate, Henry, call it by its right name, 'forgery.' Truly,
truly, have I repented in dust and ashes, and I can say like David, 'I
abhor myself.'"
"Dear Arthur," said the young clergyman, as he saw the tears of real
contrition stealing down the cheeks of his brother-in-law, "if such is
your repentance, you can continue to use David's words in the Psalm,
'Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which Thou hast broken
may rejoice.'"
Henry Halford rose as he spoke, and gave the invalid a portion of the
mixture which stood on the table, and after awhile Arthur revived, and
could listen calmly to another subject.
"If you wish to relieve your mind still farther of all anxiety, Arthur,"
said his brother-in-law presently, "I have some letters in my pocket
addressed to you. Would you like to open them? they may contain good
news."
"Yes, oh yes; where are they?" he exclaimed eagerly.
Henry drew from his pocket three letters, and placing one in Arthur's
hand, said--
"Suppose you begin with that, Arthur."
The invalid took the letter and opened it, Henry watching his
countenance half in fear as he saw the flush and look of astonishment,
and the rapid glance over its contents; but then laying it down he
closed his eyes, as if unable to understand what he had read.
"Henry," he said presently, "read it to me; it is incomprehensible."
"No, Arthur, not quite," he replied, as he took up the letter; "and
perhaps I can enlighten you. Mr. Norton called upon me a few days ago,
and stated that the trustees had come to a decision respecting the
payment of some money which you would have received had your wife lived,
and have only been waiting for the consent of all parties. Mr. Norton
wished me to inform you of their intention, but I advised him to write
to you on the subject. He has done so, and this is the letter.
"Read it, Henry, read it; God has been too good to me in the midst of
all my sinful conduct if the contents of that letter are true."
"He is wont to give us more than even we desire or deserve," said Henry,
as he opened the letter.
"Lincoln's Inn, Aug. 12th, 18--.
"MY DEAR SIR,--I am desired by the trustees of the late Mrs.
Louisa Franklyn's property to express their deep sympathy with
you in the great loss you have sustained by her death, and also
their hopes that you are recovering from the serious illness
which has followed your accident.
"With respect to a deed which was not completed by Mrs.
Franklyn at the time of her lamented death, I am directed to
state that, in consequence of a certain clause in the will of
the late Mr. Howard, your late wife's first husband, you are
not entitled to claim any of her property, the heir-at-law
being Mr. William Lynn Howard, the testator's nephew.
"In consideration of these circumstances the trustees of the
late Mrs. Franklyn are willing, with the consent of Mr. William
Lynn Howard, to make over to you the 2000_l._ which you could
have legally claimed had Mrs. Franklyn lived a few hours longer
to complete the legal document which only required her
witnessed signature.
"On receipt of your reply accepting this proposal, the
necessary papers will be forwarded for your signature.
"I remain, dear sir, faithfully yours,
"E. NORTON."
For a time there was silence between the two men, each being too much
overcome to speak. At length Arthur Franklyn exclaimed--
"Oh, Henry, if I had only confided my circumstances to you, and waited
and trusted, I might have been spared the recollection of this dreadful
fall from rectitude and honour, which will leave a blot on my conscience
to the end of my days."
"Then it will serve as a beacon and a warning to you in your future
career, Arthur; when tempted and tried you will remember what this
downfall has cost you, and with less confidence in yourself you will
have to look to the 'Strong for strength.'"
"And yet, Henry, I would give worlds to recall the past two months. Oh,
if I had only waited!"
"There is nothing more trying to the Christian in his path through life
than being required to wait. 'Stand still' was the command of God to the
Israelites when the Red Sea stretched before them, the mountains on
either side, and Pharaoh's host was behind them. And in one place the
prophet exclaims, 'Our strength is to sit still.' We often forget the
truth of the poet's words, 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'"
"Henry," exclaimed Arthur presently, "mine has been a frivolous, useless
life. I seem to have forgotten all the teachings of your dear mother in
my boyhood, but they are coming back to me now. Is there not a verse in
the Psalms about waiting? My dear lost Fanny would often remind me of
it, when instead of waiting patiently for steady success in any
undertaking, I put it aside and commenced something else. She would call
it 'making haste to be rich.' O Henry, since my illness the memory of my
carelessness about dear Fanny's health has caused me hours of bitter
remorse."
"You must not indulge any longer in self-reproach, Arthur; it can do no
good to recall the past excepting as a warning for the future, and
mental anxiety will retard your recovery. The last two months have been
very dark, but we must remember the Indian proverb, 'The darkest part of
the night is just before the dawn.'"
"What is the text in the Psalms about waiting, Henry?"
"It occurs in the thirty-seventh--'Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently
for Him; He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.' And now you
must try and sleep for a while till dinner is ready, and in the evening
I will write a letter for you to Mr. Norton, and you can sign it."
Arthur obeyed; the conversation and the letter had produced excitement,
and great exhaustion was the result. Henry sat and watched him till he
fell into a calm and peaceful sleep, to which he had for months been a
stranger.
A quiet step, a gentle movement, and as the door slowly opened Clara
Franklyn appeared. Her uncle placed his finger on his lips and pointed
to the couch. The womanly girl understood, and withdrew as noiselessly
as she had entered.