Woman As She Should Be | Page 9

worshippers that in every direction were seen apparently wending
their way towards it.
Agnes gazed at it long and earnestly. She laid it down and took it up
again, while Arthur, who could not imagine why she seemed to admire
this sketch in preference to others whose artistic merits were far
superior, gazed on her with some surprise.
"I see you are wondering, Mr. Bernard," she said, as she marked the
inquiring expression of his countenance, "why this scene should
particularly attract me. It is because it reminds me of the happiest hours
of my life, for, in a church, whose situation and appearance exactly
resembles this, I first learned where true bliss was to be found."
"A valuable lesson truly, Miss Wiltshire, and one which I would feel
thankful if you could impart to me, for I assure you I am sadly in need
of it. Dissatisfied with the world, I still see so much hypocrisy in the

church,--there are so many, even among those who minister in holy
things, who seem by their actions wedded to the vanities which they
profess to renounce, that I turn away with a feeling akin to disgust, and
am almost ready to believe that the piety which characterized the first
professors of Christianity has totally disappeared."
"Perhaps you have not been looking for it in the right place, Mr.
Bernard. There are many whose religion consists in outward
observances, while the heart is given up to its idol; but, granting there
was not one in the world who was really the possessor of true religion,
'What is that to thee?' The claims of Heaven are not less binding on you,
because not recognized or responded to by the multitude, for each must
render an account of himself, whether the offering of the heart, the only
acceptable one, has been presented, or whether we have turned coldly
away from the voice of the charmer, charm it ever so wisely."
There was silence for a few moments, which was broken by an
observation from Arthur.
"Do you know of whom you remind me, Miss Wiltshire? Of a distant
relative of my mother's, who resided with us for a time, when I was but
a boy. She was a young woman then; I, a wild, heedless boy; but her
look, her smile, her very words, are indelibly impressed on my mind.
What a lovely example of all Christian graces was she, for in her they
seemed blended, like the exquisite tints of the rainbow, into a perfect
whole. Her gentle reproof,--her winning manner ever alluring us to that
which was right,--her unwearied endeavor to make all around her
happy,--these, combined with every womanly charm, made her appear,
in my eyes, more than human; and when death came, much and deeply
as I lamented the loss, I could scarcely wonder that Heaven had
reclaimed its own."
There was a pause, and then Arthur added,--"That I have not gone to
the same extent in folly as others, I believe I owe to her, for when
tempted, by my gay companions at college, to join them in the
pleasures of sin, her look of mild entreaty seemed ever before me,
deterring me from ill; and I often think, had she lived, I might to-day
have been a better and more useful man."

Agnes had been an attentive listener. "I do not wonder," she said, as he
ceased speaking, "that you so highly estimate woman's influence, for
you have largely benefited by it; but though dead, she yet speaketh. Do
you remember what Young says respecting dying friends? That they
are
'Angels sent on errands full of love, For us they sicken, and for us they
die.'
We sometimes wonder at the mysterious Providence which often
suddenly removes the excellent from earth; while the wicked are
allowed to remain; but may it not be graciously ordered thus, to excite
in us an ardent desire for that preparation which shall enable us to greet
our friends on the shores of the better land. Oh, without such a hope
what would life be.
'It lifts the fainting spirit up, It brings to life the dead.'
How often should I be ready to sink in despair," and Agnes's lips
quivered with emotion, "were it not that I am permitted to look forward
to that inheritance which is incorruptible and undefiled, and which shall
prove an abundant recompense for those 'light afflictions which are but
for a moment.'"
"But you," said Arthur, half inquiringly, "are, I trust, a stranger to those
afflictions.
'Rose-leaved from the cold, And meant, verily, to hold Life's pure
pleasures manifold.'"
"My childhood and youth has, indeed, passed amid flowers and
sunshine," was the reply; "and if the future appears now to point to a
more gloomy and thornier path, I