Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-03
CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VI.
Charities battle proved a doughty en-
gagement. Lively skirmishing had been
known for fan smaller Offenses. This was
a regular field matter, and Mrs. Beltham
covered herself with glory, and retired
from the engagement with colOrs flying
and martial music, so to speak.
Charlie had declared herself ready for
grandma, had talked braYely of "Greek
meeting Creek" ETC., ETC., ETC., but she
had shown hardly any fight at all, and sat
as coOlly under a brOadside of shot and
she'll as if she had worn a coat of mail or
possessed a charmed life. She looked
worn and tired-that was all: and at the
close of the attack only said: ''GOOd
night, grandmother" and walked up
stairs with such a look of patient sub
mission that Mrs. Beltham, recalling it
all later as she undressed for bed, con
cluded that Charlie was really going to be
i'll.
The girl did not fall asleep this night as
readily as she should after her long walk.
Somehow she felt stirred and vexed. and
hardly knew what about. Her resent
ment did not touch her grandmother in
the least. She seemed not to care for her
severity tonight, nor even recalled it.
Nor did it touch "Uncle Albert whom
she had seen as she passed the study win
dow, serenely smoking in the front yard,
though she knew he was in hearing of his
mothers reprOof, and no doubt enjoyed it
right well.
No; Charlie was angry with herself.
outraged at herself, ashamed of herself.
This young girl, unblessed by ii mothers
JudlclOus care, hampered perpetuallY by
petty and weak discipline, tried, as very
few so early in life are, with a sense of
unkind and constant surveillance, had in
her nature not the slightest trace of
q ITsan nrsT III ind
tice were given her, she was always ready
to repay it with an ell of generous kind
ness.
That she had a quick temper did not
lessen the fact that her heart was brave
and generous and good. Old and feeble
people, little and helpless people, sick and
suffering people, found her gentle. svm-
pathetic, cOnsiderate, kind; but she lived
in constant rebellion, in constant self-as-
sertiOn, and, consequently, in constant
war with herself Nobody suffered more
from remOTse. Nobody ever had less mer-
cy ON themselves. BY her own large
standard of justice and right she daily
measured her actions, and daily found
herself miserably wanting. Tonight she
judges herself unheard. She passes SEN
tence without pity, and with deep hui
initiation she repents with an abject re-
pentance:
"There's no use Sinking matters" she
repeats to herself again, ''nO sort of use.
The man was a gentleman; his voice,
manner, everything showed him such.
lie met me alone, almost in the night. He
could not pass me by. I am too helpless
only girl and alone in the darkness.
So he pities me, just as he would have
pitied another girl so situated. With
courteous kindness he cares for me; he
Will care for me no matter what l say or
do, and he only leaves me safe at nv
fathers house. That's his part of the
matter. What is mine? I am a lady.
we'll born, well bred, knowing intuitively
the true from the false, the gentle from
the coarse. l accept his kindness grace
fully, gratefully, L deprecate his discOm-
fort in my behalf, L beguile the tedious
way with cheerful talk, thank him at
my own door with cordial words of 20
lite obligation, and ask him inside to re-
ceive the thanks of my family, and later
retire at peace with the whole world and
myself Do G? Yes, truly, though it
sounds little differently in the telling.
l storm at him-this rare and elegant gem
tleman-aS if | were an inturiated Biddy.
scOrn his valuable help. l spurn his
attendance, and slam my fathers hos
pltable door, as it were, in his face. All
me! ah me! Was there ever a girl so
peryerse, so pititul? l can only hope and
pray that, as this is large and wide planet,
his pathway and mine may lie so far
apart that like two parallel lines they
may never tOuch;" and Charlie, humbled
and fearful, knelt by her pretty bedside
and meekly asked forgiveness for this
days sins of a tender Heavenly Father
who has offered to bear our heavy bur-
dens.
A little later the slanting rays of the
harvest moonlight fall ON her sleeping
face. Calm and beautiful she lies, with
hon frr~p. NH L. foI.
On her fair face, etherealiZed by the soft
light, is the impress of her last child
like petition to heaven, and, rested and
forgiven, hers is the face of a sleeping
angel. For out of the heart cOmeth all
unrighteOusness. Charles heart is pure
and good; her deeds but the outcome of
her mOtherless condition. Softly the radi-
ance creeps lower and lower, until her fair
form is left in darkness, and only a silver
thread or two lies family on the floor.
Good night, young sleeper! soft be thy pill
low tonight, for thOrns may be growing
even now to disturb thy coming rest,
Poor Charliel Poor, pretty Charlie! The
next morning after encOuntering her
usual contradictions and crosses at the
breakfast table, Charlie started out of the
house, book in hand, for her walk to her
teachers. She wanted to confess to I'M
Gle Henry; to tell him just how rudely she
had treated the kindly stranger of the
night before; she wanted to hear him say
in his paternal and most partial way:
Il can't see that you've been so sinful, my
Charlie. l can't see that you are alto
gether to blame," ETC., etc. This was al
ways his comforting way, and, though the
girl knew he would strain his sense of
justice as far as his conscience would let
him for her acquittal, still she needed Just
such indulgence and must have it. She
was hungering and thirsting for kind
words, for tenderness, and even for pity:
and the place for just these things was the
manse. She felt very humble this bright
morning, as if in the beautiful world She
was perhaps the least grateful, the least
linen across her thoughts came now, as
Always, a dreary anxiety about her
father. He had had a bad night. He was
suffering still. He could never be better.
and would soon be gone! "Where p, She
thought, with keen new pain. Where
do those go who are all-suficient for
themselves, who scOrn the extended hand
of an all-sufiicient Saviour? She conId
not tell. Perhaps he might be right after
ALL he was always esteemed wise and
scholarly. How was it possible that his
daughter should be wiser and more
learned than he? But there was uncle
Henry! How bright his faith had kept
all his long life What a strong tower it
had been in times Of clouds and darkness!