The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-08-17
For the National Era.
SELFISH GRIEF;
OF, THE MOTHER,s REVERIR
BIZ EALLIE LANMAR.

BIZ EALLIE LANMAN.
stood by my LiliGn'e grave in despair God
had taken from mo what he had once 80 kind
ly given, and my heart did not even thank him
for the precious loan.
would had died with her y said as |
sank upon tho grass wet with the falling dew.
and whitening under the ruthless hand Of au-
tumn.
In one half hour, what q world Of life tened
before me. was again q careless school girl,
romping, gaming, and laughing lightly, as if
life had no future cares, 10 deeper joys, 20
crushing sorrows.
The old mansion ct Clifton Hall rose on my
sight, towering majestically above tho tall
trees with which it was darby shaded
Our matrOn was there, with her eagle glance,
her short, thick, unyielding figure, her firm
tread indicating the resolution with which she
was abundantly gifted.
was pale, slender school girl, shrinking
beneath her gaze, and clinging to nay mother
with tenacity not easily resisted But at
length, one after another Of my future COM
penions appear in the hall, and catch q glance
at their new comrade then | gather strength,
and only wish to be alone With them, aud out
of tho sight Of that sharp-cyed teacher.
My room is small one, and the bodstead
proportional to It's size, is neatly hung with
pink ohintz
"You arc to keep your drawers nicely,0 the
matron says, and | timidly answer, Yes
ma'am )" bat as l have never kept an article
for myself DO not even dream that such care
on my part is among the possibilities Of life
There IS a large card hung up in my ROOM
and on it | em directed to read, carefully,
twenty four regulations relating to "Chfton
| Hall" The garden is pBradisiscal, and like its
| original bears the finest fruit--ths the young
| Ewes must not touch, on pain Of some lesser
evil than that which bolel their illustrious
mother, ages before.
This was among a lis5 Of commands, longer,
a great DEAL than those OF tie moral law, in
which had been rcGgOusly instructed and
fancied that they were only indirect guides to
q course Of decent bchavisuT, not expected to
be literally fulfilled In this was mistaken,
as | had occasion afterwards to realize, whilo
dOirg penGuce in an apartment built upon the
hOueetop, and closely guarded by iron f4sten-
| ings
But our ma!ron was not always severe, and
| was not always disobedient. There were
hours--but they were supset ones, and, Of
course, quickly past--wben | dreamed of at
teinsble perfection. was to grow very good,
shine like the sun ut MONDAY, and pass away
like himself at lass, gloriously.
| At such times | was alone, and tho spirits
| which fit among shadows were the only souls
that knew my thoughts or breathed them.
| Candle-Gght and companions brought rcac.
| ton, and the genius of fun and mischief often
left ME not until midnighs's still and solemn
hour bede it begone.
But there came fearful day-the one on
which "Agnesn died, g religious doyotee, who
had lived among US her still, blamelcss life
by day, and told AUs MIritS on her waxen
beads at night.
She was never unamiablc to me yet knew
that | had often grievcd her pious heart by
| thoughtless levity on the subject OF her faith.
And yet, as | sometimes followed her to the
| little chapel where Psre Clerc awaited her
altar, over when hung x Sun,rsh "oIr dafST7
said, agnes has religion Of some sort; have
nonoo
| She lay for weeks in the sick chamber"
supported by pillows ~ colorless as her own
| pale face; but es she wcs seldom alone, and the
| Doctor forbade all excitement dared not ven
ture to cross its threshold; often standing long
| ingly without while no one babe me enter
One morning, however, | f2llowed Pere Clerc,
determined that [ would not be excluded al
ways from Agnes's chamber.
hastily concealed myself within the densely
folded curtains and heard what was not in
tended for merely mortal ears-Agnes's last
confession.
"Holy Father, one sin burdens my heart.
have never told you before, that nuns life
seems to mo uncomfortable. love my homo, It's
attractions-abovs all love one 10 whom, from
my youth have been srdcntly devote1-and
yet you tell nae that must give up ell these
for heaven. | want both earth and bessedness
hereafter. Has God given us all theee things
and may we not love themt" How | trem-
bled, with mingled emotions of rage and pity
as heard Pere Clerc say in solemn, yes awful
tones, " If any man come to me- and hate not
his father, and mother, and wife and children,
and brethren and sisters yea, and his own life
also, he cannot be my disciple"
"HypocIits ~ had nearly exclaimed; but
the remembrance of my position quoted me,
and this alone kept back the storm OF indgna-
ton gathering fercoly in my heart.
When he had gone, | stole softly from my
hiding-place. The eyes Of poor Agues were
closed and her lips moved a. if in prayer.
How / pitisd her How 1 longcd to tell her
what knew Of my relgjon-that it Uas love
love supreme to God-loYe quehchkW towards
man. "Why does that hateful priest wish to
torment this dying girl!" asked, audibly.
Agnes opened her eyes in wonder, at my
"Donjs feel badly" said, taking tho sick
girl's hand, /" | did not wish to trouble you, Az
nos, but long to comfort you
She laid her band upon my lips, and crossed
herself deyoutiy.
you are very ILL.," said, when a few mo-
ments had elapsed.
uer lips trcmbled, and an expression OF the
deepest sorrow was visible On her features
while it moved strongly my young hesrt, io-
had seen but few exhibitions OF grief II my short
and sunny life.
al must die; but you, trust, will live long
and happily"
"You don't know that you will de--perhaps
if you pray God will hear you, and save your
Q life"
: 81 have no one to live for but myself" she
: said, sorrow fully "yet tho thought of leaving
8 life is not pleasant feel sorro Wfdl and fear
T full, too" she said, family.
; 40, Agnes if | were such saint as yo'
4 are, should not be afraid. Mother says, 'goc(
d people 80 to heaven when they die and tha
: it is great deal better place than this world
). al have tried to be good, and have dom
penance cold nights in winter, while the glri
Y of my own ago were sleeping quietly IN tbci
r snug beds yet have never been happy Their
If is load here" she said, laying her hand uPor
/ her heart, and looking wildly at me-in anothe
= moment ehe sprang from the bed.
|, | called for help and, when the attendan
Il came, Agnes was dying. The whole house wa
g as still as death alone could hush it; and froI
an unobseryed corner watched Pere Clerc, a
d he anointed the dying girl, and prayed owe
n her, with apparent junction.
r She ceased to breathe, and | hurried froI
% the room, whilo strangers performed the Ia:
ot Offices for one of their own order.
10 But when all was over, and Agnes lay alor
Is in darkoned apartment lit only with wake
A. candles looked once more upon the face