Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1853-1862, 1853-10-16

cn'SW myself INTO bed offered no prayer 10
1ods forgiveness; mine was not so much penitenci
as remorse. Had been a man who had blasteI
his prospects in life by the commission of some
deadly SIN. could scarcely have felt more morally
lost more hopeless about the future NV amt had
represented my sin in appalling colors; and nv
whole previous education and turn of mind made
me feel IT'S turpltude strongly; the possibility of re
pairing 1t had not been urged unon me- bat rather
denied. / thought it would color AM, prejudice my
whole after life that had lost caste for ever
scarcely slept at all, and got up mentally sick
physically worn out. / dared not stay away from
the breakfast table, so made haste to be first down
stairs. The windows of our pleasant morning room
We're open, there had been rain during the night
and it was one Of those fresh laughing mornings
which should have so enjoyed once Once. yes, il
was a long time ago The whole aspect Of the
apartment within, of refreshed nature without, had
an eminently pleasant effect or rather thought il
would have to other eyes. | took a seat in the
shade; had dim idea Il knew not whether it were
hope Or'dread) that Mr. Ellison might come in be-
fore the Others, but he did not. He and my aunt
came in together, and they were closely followed
! by the children.
He was man of about fifty years of age, with
| figure and countenanee which, in youth might
! have been handsome, but which had suffered too
! severely from what suppose were the effects of
time to be so now. He had, too, an air of gravity
and reticence, which rather oppressed stranger
unacquainted with the minute sympathies the COM
prehensive benevolence it veie,i
He came up to me where sat detected and hum
bled, and held out his hand. 70 my surprise and
| may say, to my exquisite pain, he spoke to me
] much as usual | could almost have thought more
tenderly than usual. | dared not look up US mur-
INJURED my inaudible answer. My aunt gave me
chilling "goOd morning" my young cousins looked
at me shyly, but did not speak. No one spoke to
me during breakfast except my guardian. and he
only in connection with the cOurtesies of the table,
and not being able to hear this, crept out of the
room soon as dared. 1t was the same at every
other meal; and all the intervals between L spent
alone, uns0ught, unquestioned, suffering fiery
trial. don't dwell on the details of my experience
that day. | have suffered much since, but, God
knows, never more However, as may be Suppo-
sed, slept little that night, for nature would
! bear up no longer r.., tls ..H ..f ...
2, The next day came, breakfast passed as before,
and, as before, was stealing out of the room, when
my guardian called me back
''lf you want to talk to Mabel said my aunt,
Il will leave you alone together. ,gt A 81.
But Mr., Ellison begged earnestly that she would
remain and, to my bitter regret, she consented. |
felt now there would be no hope for me. He then
placed chair for me- and coming up to where l
stood sinking with shame near the door, led me
gently to it. you are too forbearing, my dear
SIR urged my aunt "she is not any longer entitled
to such Kindness.
''Is she not!n he returned with bitter sigh: ard
then addressed me-"M Mabel, are yOa truly sorry
for this sin of yours?' -....-- -..-.. .....
The accents Of generous sympathy with which
the words were spoken wrought upon me. "SOrry..'
| cried in an agony; Il am misefable shall always
be miserable! Every one will despise me all my
life long-and oh. ! meant to be so good,
My guardian took seat beside me. "And now,
he asked, "yOu give up trying.
looked up eagerly. ~Where would be the use?"
| said. "A liar'-the word seemed to burn my
lips but l would say it, for feared he did not
know the worst-"lOses her character at once and
forever. No one will trust me again, no one can
respect me. Oh! it's dreadful" ! shuddered in
stinctively. ..a. ..4.,f .. -.-l-.i
Then what is to follow" asked Mr. Ellison is
all effort to be given up, and this dark spot to
spread till it infects your whole character Are all
duties to be neglected because You have failed in
One9 and are you to live on. perhaps to lolrseOre
incapacitated by this selfish remorse? Not so,
Mabel ... .. r. q. ...-----....
Pardon my interrupting you, Mr.. Ellison" in
terposed my aunt 'but this is scarcely the way to
treat my niece. You viii make her think lightly
of the dreadful sin she has committed, she will fancy
her compunction extreme, whereas no repentance
can be sufficient Don't try to soften her present
impression l would have her carry with her to
the grave the sautary sense she seems to have of
what she has done.
Il too, said my guardian fervently, Il would
teach her lesson she would never forget, but it
would be differently put from yours. Before God,
grant you, no amount of penitcnee would suffice
70 procure that atonement which is freely given on
wider grounds; but regards her relations to her
fellow beings, to her future life, Mabel argues
wrong: men in general. the world at large, you
Yourself my dear madam, appear to me to argue
wrong on this subject. ~
NV aunt colOred. Pardon me-" she said sti6y,
Il think we cannot understand each other
Perhaps" said he, IL have misunderstood
you; but if you viii suffer direct question: ii viii
settle the point Suppose that, in the future, Ma
bells conduct should be exemplary, would you fully
restore her to the place she once held in your
teem?"
looked anxiousy towards my aunt; the ques-
tion was momentOus one to me. She seemed to
reflect. .-..a
at is painful to say it," she replied at length;
.but must be conscientious in such case, Mabel
would in great measure regain my esteem; but to
exneet me to feel for her as did before she had so
daepIy injured her moral nature. seems unreason-
! able. She can never be exactly to me what she
was before"
And vou think. doubtless. that she is right in
considering that this youthful sin will impair her
future capacity for good?
Il think" answered my aunt, "that is the penal
ty attached to all sin, that it should keep US low
and humble through life. The comparatively clear
conscience will be better fitted for good deeds than
the burdened.'
There was a pause; my heart had sunk again.
Mr.. Ellison rose and began to walk up and down
the iio0r.
"Suppose n case madam he said presently, and
in n constrained tone-"whcre an honorable man,
under strong temptation, has committed dishon-
orabe action or a merciful man "a cruel One have
they rarred life, and must they 90 softly al the
rest of their days? Must they leave to other men
the fulflment OF high duties, the pursuit and
achievement of moral excellence? would you think
il unseemly if at any after period you hear the one
urging on some conscience the necessity Of rect-
tuds or the other advocating the beauty Of benev
oence? or must they, conscious that transgression
has lowered them forever, never presume to hold
themselves erect againg' ..ls-.- ....- ID. I'd. b
/ '.My dear Mr. Ellison said my aunt, looking
/ with surprise at my guardian, who had certainly
/ warmed into unusual eneFgy-aI think We are wan
4 dering from the point. Such discussion as this
will not do Mabel any good, but rather harm If |
understand you to mean that we are not material
| " affected by our transgressons 1t is strange
doctrine sir and very dangerous one.n f1l
"Nly dear friend" returned my guardian, gently
'far be it from me to say that our tranSgressionS
! do not materially affect u.s. | do not gainsay your
/ view of the life long humility which human being
| should feel for criminal act, but | would intro
duce hope and not despair, into his mind j don't
which society of iudOing thf.