Words of Cheer for the Tempted, the Toiling, and the Sorrowing | Page 6

for merriment;' I said once in
an embarrassed manner. 'If I do wrong, it is not deliberately done.'
Theodore was silent a moment, and he looked at me as if he hardly
knew how to understand me--then smiling, he turned the conversation,
and was as gay as ever. When they had taken their leave, I entered the
parlour again, and threw myself in a seat by the open window. I turned
the blind, and looked out after them. Eleanor had caught the fringe of
her mantilla in the railing of the area. I was about to speak with her on
the little accident, when Theodore laughed, and said to his sister, 'Alice
is as fond of taking characters, as an actress. She attempted to reprove
me, for the very thing she had laughed at a little while before. Rather
inconsistent in our favourite, Nelly, don't you think so?' Eleanor
laughed, and said good-naturedly, 'Alice is impulsive, she don't
measure what she says, before it comes out.'
"I rose, and left the window. I felt sad, and peculiarly discomposed and
dissatisfied with myself. I knew that I had tried to do right in some
degree, and it grated on my feelings that my effort should be called 'a
taking of character.' Oh! if I could only live with good people
altogether, who would bear with me, and trust my motives! You have
my story, Aunt Mary, it amounts to nothing, but I am so sad."
"Life is made up of trifles," said Miss Clinton. "Few circumstances are
so trivial that we may not draw a lesson from them. Do not feel sad,
Alice, because you are misunderstood. Do not repine on account of
your position; no one could fill it but yourself, or you would not be
placed in it. Be resigned to meet those who call out unpleasant feelings;
they teach you better your own nature than ever the angels could. They
bring forth what is evil in you, that it may be conquered. Do not
understand me to mean that you should ever seek those who may harm

you. But a day can hardly pass over our heads, that we do not meet
with persons who ruffle that harmony of soul we so labour after. It is
keenly felt when one is as young in a better life as you are. You need
strength, and then you will be calm and even. Time, patience,
combating, prayer, good-will to man, must bring your soul to order,
then you will bear upon the spirits of others with a still, purifying
power which will soothe and soften like far-off music. You have it in
your power to do much good; your Creator has blessed you with that
inexpressible sympathy which may glide gently into another human
heart and open its secret springs almost unconsciously to the possessor.
I have watched you, child of my love, and perhaps I know you better
than you know yourself. There are many latent germs within your being;
Oh! Alice, pray God to expand them to heavenly life. Bear on--and live
for something worthy a creature God has made." Mary Clinton paused
in an unusual emotion; her cheek glowed deeply, and the burning
softness of her eyes chained Alice's look as with a spell, to their angel
expression. The heart of the young girl throbbed almost to bursting,
with the world of undeveloped feeling that rushed over her. It was a
moment which many have experienced--a moment which breaks over
the young for the first time with such a thrill--she realized that God had
gifted her with power--with a soul that might and must have its
influence. Bowing her head upon Aunt Mary's knee, she wept; and a
flood of joy, humility, and thanksgiving came over her, as she more
deeply dedicated herself to the holy Lord, and laid her gifts upon His
altar. Aunt Mary's words sunk peacefully into her soul, and a clear light
irradiated it and filled it with a calmness that made all things right.
With a look of irrepressible tenderness, and a voice full of low music,
Alice said to Aunt Mary, as she rose to retire, "You have charmed away
every discordant note that was touched to-night, dear aunt. How
unaccountable are our sudden changes of mood! You have now thrown
over me your own spirit of peaceful repose and contentment.
Good-night, and think you!"
"Well, I am content, entirely content," soliloquized Mary Clinton, when
the loved form of the child of her heart had disappeared. "To try to
bless another, how richly does the blessing fall back upon my own soul!
Yes! I have my joys. Why am I ever so ungrateful as to murmur at
aught that befalls me? I am blest--a sunshine is breaking over the tender

earth for me;