Was It Right to Forgive? by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (free novel 24 .txt) 📖

father, I want you. Oh, I need you so much!" and she covered her face with her hands, and wept with all her heart. "I have been ill, but you have never been to see me, father--did you not know how ill I was? Do you not care for me?" she sobbed.

Mr. Filmer pulled a chair to his side. "Come here, my girl," he answered, "for I cannot come to you. Look at my bandaged foot, Rose. I have not stepped on it for a month."

"Oh, father! I am so sorry for you--and for myself."

"I fell, my dear--fell down those spiral stairs in the library, and sprained myself very badly. Did you imagine I had forgotten?"

"Mamma never told me--yes, I believe she did tell me--but I thought it was only a little hurt. I have been so selfishly miserable. And, oh, father! it is such a disappointment to me. I wanted you to take me to Antony."

"That is folly, my child. Your husband is about his business. He will come home as soon as he can leave it; and you are not fit to travel."

Then Rose remembered that her father had but a partial knowledge of the truth regarding her real position, and she hesitated. Lame and unable to help her, why should she make him unhappy? So she only said: "There is something a little wrong between Antony and me, and I want to talk to him. Letters always make trouble. I thought perhaps you might go with me; but you are lame--and busy, too, I see."

"Unfortunately, I am lame at present; but if you are in any trouble, Rose, I am not busy. What is this to you?" he asked, lifting some manuscript and tossing it scornfully aside. "It is only my amusement; you are my heart, my honor, my duty! I would burn every page of my book if by so doing I could bring you happiness, my child."

"There is nothing to call for such a sacrifice, papa," she said, while the grateful tears sprang to her eyes; "but somehow, I do not seem to have any friends but you and mamma; none, at least, from whom I can expect help."

"In trouble, Rose, you may always go to God and to your father and mother for help. From them you cannot expect too much; and from men and women in general you cannot expect too little. Your mother will be home soon, so remain here to-night, and have a talk with her about this notion of going west to Antony. She will tell you that it is very foolish."

"If I stay I must send home the carriage, and then no one knows what may happen if the house is without any one even to give an alarm. But I am glad to have seen you, papa. And it was good to hear you say you would burn your book for my sake. I feel ever so much better for having heard you say such splendid words."

So Rose went home, without having made any advance towards her intention; but she was strengthened and comforted by her father's love and trust.

And she said to herself, "Perhaps I had better not be rash. I will be still, and think over things." Yet she was sensible of a singular impatience of delay. "Delay might mean so much. Her evil genius might have foreseen her effort, and resolved thus to defeat it. Harry might go with her. She might go by herself. Had she not contemplated a journey to Europe alone?" Until long after midnight she sat considering the details of her journey--the dress she ought to wear--the words she ought to say--and, alas! the possibilities of disappointment.

"No! there must be no delay," she whispered, as at last, weary with thought, she laid her head on her pillow. "I will go to-morrow, or, at any rate, on the day following." And with this determination, she fell asleep.

Just in the gray light before the dawning, she leaped from her bed like one pursued. She was drenched in the sweat of terror; the very sheets which had wrapped her were wet with the unhappy dew. To the window she ran, and threw it open, and leaned far out, and looked up and down the dim, silent street, sighing heavily, and wringing her hands like a child in terror, lost and perplexed. It was strange to see her walk round the room, touch the chairs, the ornaments, lift her garments, and finally go to the mirror and peer into it at her own white face.

A few hours later she was in Woodsome, talking to Peter Van Hoosen. Memories and fears that she could not endure were pressing her so sorely that she must needs tell them, and there seemed to be no one at once so strong and so sympathetic as Antony's father. He was listening to her story with an almost incredulous silence, as with tears and shame-dyed cheeks, she confessed her many sins and contradictions against her husband. Peter sat with eyes cast down, but ever and anon he lifted his searching gaze to the penitent's face; and anger and pity strove for the mastery.

"I think I was possessed of a devil," she said, and she looked hopelessly at Peter, with the self-accusation.

"You were possessed of yourself, Rose Van Hoosen; and there is no greater mystery than to be possessed of self."

"I know. I never cared for Antony's happiness. It was always what I wanted, and what I thought. That is the reason I must go and tell him how sorry I am."

"You must go further and higher than Antony. You must feel as David felt when he cried out to God, 'Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned; and done this evil in Thy sight.' It is not Antony, but God, you will have to answer. You have lived as the fool lives. You have not remembered that every day is bringing you closer to that Great Day when this heaven and earth shall pass away like a burning scroll. Then Rose, you yourself will have to tell what you have done with the love and the time and the money that have been loaned you. If God sent you away from His presence forever, how could you bear it?"

An awful fear came into her eyes; she was white as death, and she trembled visibly.

"I have been where God is not," she said, in a whisper full of horror. "I was there this morning. I was not dreaming. I was there. I was in the Land of Evil Spirits."

Peter bent forward, and took her hand between his hands, and said:

"Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me."

"There was no God in that Land of the Shadow of Hell. It was desolation unutterable, and the light of it was darkness. I saw nothing but bare black mountains, and dead pits of black water, and wretched huts, wherein the evil ones crouched and crawled. There was a dreadful smell everywhere, I could not escape from it; and it was worse than all the other horrors. And I knew that it came from dead and dying souls and putrid sins and I tried to hide in caves, or climb the dark mountains, but I could not get beyond its sickening influence. I can not understand. Can you?"

"I think so, Rose. No sense we have is more closely connected with the sphere of the soul than the sense of smell. If it is a direct avenue for the soul's approach to God, may it not lead also the other way? It is certain that because of its far-reaching power over the deep things, and the hidden things of the heart, the Bible is full of images appealing to this very sense. I can understand why the Land of the Evil Ones has the odor of death unto death."

"I tried in vain to flee from it, for I could not move fast. Some Power seemed to be dragging me slowly down; a Power like a huge loadstone, patient, because it was sure of me, and therefore able to wait. I knew prayer could help me; but I could not pray. Suddenly I saw an angel, very tired, and scarce moving her wings in the black air. I knew it was my Guardian Angel. Her eyes were full of pity, and she seemed so loth to leave me. Then in an awful terror I stretched out my hands, and called to her; and so calling, I came back to myself. And I flew to my window and looked out, and I touched all the things in my room, for I wanted to be sure that I was still alive; and as I dressed I said continually, 'Thank God! thank God!' I must go to Antony and tell him how sorry I am; then perhaps God will forgive me. Will you go with me to Antony?"

"I will."

"Can you start to-morrow?"

"To-day, if you wish. We can reach New York by three o'clock, and leave by to-night's train for the west. I will see your father and mother, and do all that is necessary about your property, while you pack such clothing as you require. Now shall Betta bring you a cup of tea, for you look weary to death?"

"I have had nothing to eat to-day."

"Do you know where Antony is?"

"My lawyer knows--somewhere in Arizona, I think."

"No, he is nearer Denver. He went to Denver a month ago, about the sale of some mining property, and in his last letter he told me he had bought a shooting lodge south of Denver, from an English gentleman who was returning to England, and that he intended to spend the summer there. Through his agent in Denver we can find out the precise location." Then he spoke hopefully to her of God's love, and of her husband's love, but she was exceedingly depressed and sorrowful; and though she drank her tea, she made it bitter with tears. For she could not rid herself of that vision of her angel, hovering so tired and hopeless, on the verge of a limit beyond her holy care.

"Oh, father!" she cried, "if I could only once more know that my head was covered with her white wings! If the dear and great angel would only let me feel her guarding me--me, out of all the world! I used to know something about my Guardian Angel, but I had forgotten it for many years, until this very moment. Just as I spoke to you, the last lines flashed into my mind, as if all their letters were made of light. Listen:


'Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low,
And lay my hands together,
And lift them up to pray, and gently tether
Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garments spread?'"


So, with many tears and sad reflections, she drank a little tea; and then Peter induced her to sleep an hour, because the journey would be long and hard for her. But every mile of it was a tonic, and when she reached the high tableland of Colorado, the color came back to her cheeks, and she was able to eat and sleep, and in some ways enjoy the travel. Peter watched over her with a father's care; nay, it was more like a mother's never-wearying anxiety for her welfare and happiness; and when Denver was reached, both were full of hope, and cheerful in their hope. Here Peter