more light, and willing to take the sharpest charges home to herself. Yet the next reference startled her.
"Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth; and forthwith they sprang up because they had no deepness of earth: and when the sun was up, they were scorched;"--
Was it possible, that she had been like that very bad ground? Yes, she knew the underlying rock too well. Then in her case there was special danger of a flash religion, taken up for the minute's sense of need or perception of advantage merely, and not rooted so that it would stand weather. Hers should not be so; no profession of being a Christian would she make, till it was thorough work; till at last she could forgive her aunt's treachery; it would be pretty thorough if she could do that! But how long first? At present Rotha thought of her aunt in terms that I will not stop to detail; in which there was bitter anger and contempt and no love at all. She knew it, poor child; she felt the difficulty; her only sole hope was in the power of that promise in Ezekiel, which she blessed in her heart, almost with tears. That way there was an outlook towards light; no other way in all her horizon. She would see what more the Bible had to say about it.
Going on in her researches, after another passage or two she came to those notable words, also in Ezekiel,--
"Cast away from you all your transgressions, whereby ye have transgressed; and make you a new heart and a new spirit: for why will ye die, O house of Israel?"
Make herself a new heart? how could she? she could not; and yet, here the words were, and they must mean something. And to be sure, she thought, a man is said to build him a new house, who gets the carpenter to make it, and never himself puts hand to tool. But cast away her transgressions?--_that_ she could do, and she would. From that day forth. The next passage was in the fifty first psalm; David's imploring cry that the Lord would "create" in him "a new heart"; and then the lovely words in Jeremiah:--"After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people."
Rotha shut her book. That was the very thing wanted. When the law of God should be _in her heart_ so, then all would be right, and all would be easy too. It is easy to do what is in one's heart. What beautiful words! what exquisite promises! what tender meeting of the wants of weak and sinful men! Rotha saw all this, and felt it. Ay, and she felt that every vestige of excuse was gone for persistence in wrong; if God was so ready to put in his hand of love and power to make things right. And one more passage made this conclusively certain. It was the thirteenth verse of the eleventh chapter of Luke.
The morning's work was a good one for Rotha. She made up her mind. That, indeed, she had done before; now she took her stand with a clearer knowledge of the ground and of the way in which the difficulties were to be met. By a new heart, nothing less; a heart of flesh; which indeed she could not create, but which she could ask for and hope for; and in the mean time she must "cast away from her all her transgressions." No compromise, and no delay. As to this anger at her aunt,--well, it was there, and she could not put it out; but allow it and agree to it, or give it expression, that she would not do.
She cast about her then for things to be done, neglected duties. No studies neglected were on her conscience; there did occur to her some large holes in the heels of her stockings. Rotha did not like mending; however, here was duty. She got out the stockings and examined them. A long job, and to her a hateful one, for the stockings had been neglected. Rotha had but a little yarn to mend with; she sat down to the work and kept at it until she had used up her last thread. That finished the morning, for the stockings were fine, and the same feeling of duty which made her take up the mending made her do it conscientiously.
The evening was spent happily over the stereoscope and Fergusson on Architecture. Towards the end of it Mrs. Mowbray whispered to her,
"My dear, your aunt wishes you to spend a day with her; don't you think it would be a good plan to go to-morrow? A thing is always more graceful when it is done without much delay."
Rotha could but acquiesce.
"And make the best of it," Mrs. Mowbray went on kindly; "and make the best of _them_. There is a best side to everybody; it is good to try and get at it. The Bible says 'Overcome evil with good.'"
"Can one, always?" said Rotha.
"I think one can always--if one has the chance and time. At any rate, it is good to try."
"But don't you think, ma'am, one must feel pleasant, before one can act pleasant?"
"Feel pleasant, then," said Mrs. Mowbray smiling. "Can't you?"
"You do not know how difficult it is," said Rotha.
"Perhaps I do. Hearts are alike."
"O no, Mrs. Mowbray!" said Rotha in sudden protest.
"Not in everything. But fallen nature is fallen nature, my dear; one person's temptations may be different from another's, but in the longing to do our own pleasure and have our own way, we are all pretty much alike. None of us has anything to boast of. What you despise, is the yielding to a temptation which does not attack you."
Rotha's look at her friend was intelligent and candid. She said nothing.
"And if you can meet hatred with love, it is ten to one you can overcome it. Wouldn't that be a victory worth trying for?"
Rotha knew the victory over herself was the first one to be gained. But she silently acquiesced; and after breakfast next morning, with reluctant steps, she set forth to go to her aunt's in Twenty-third Street. She had been in a little doubt how to dress herself. Should she wear her old things? or subject the new ones to her aunt's criticism? But Antoinette had seen the pretty plaid school dress; it would be foolish to make any mystery of it. She dressed herself as usual.
Mrs. Busby and her daughter were in the sitting room up stairs. Rotha had knocked, modestly, and as she went in they both lifted up their heads and looked at her, with a long look of survey. Rotha had come quite up to them before her aunt spoke.
"Well, Rotha,--so it is you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Have you come to see me at last?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Mowbray said you wished it."
"What made you choose to-day particularly?"
"Nothing. Mrs. Mowbray said--"
"Well, go on. What did Mrs. Mowbray say?"
"She said you wanted to have me come, some day, and she thought I had better do it to-day."
"Yes. Did she give no reason?"
"No. At least--"
"At least what?"
Rotha had no skill whatever in prevarication, nor understood the art. Nothing occurred to her but to tell the truth.
"Mrs. Mowbray said a thing was more graceful that was done promptly."
The slightest possible change in the set of Mrs. Busby's lips, the least perceptible air of her head, expressed what another woman might have told by a snort of disdain. Mrs. Busby's manner was quite as striking, Rotha thought. Her own anger was rising fast.
"O, and I suppose she is teaching you to do things gracefully?" said Antoinette. "Mamma, the idea!"
"It did not occur to her or you that I might like to see my niece occasionally?" said Mrs. Busby.
Rotha bit her lips and succeeded in biting down the answer.
"We have not grown very graceful _yet_," Antoinette went on. "It is usually thought civilized to answer people."
"You had better take off your things," Mrs. Busby said. "You may lay them up stairs in your room."
"Is there any reason which makes this an inconvenient day for me to be here?" Rotha asked before moving to obey this command.
"It makes no difference. The proper time for putting such a question, if you want to do things _gracefully_, is before taking your action, while the answer can also be given gracefully, if unfavourable."
Rotha went slowly up stairs, feeling that or any other place in the house better than the room where her aunt was. She went to her little cold, cheerless, desolate-looking, old room. How she had suffered there! how thankf
ul she was to be in it no more! how changed were her circumstances! Could she not be good and keep the peace, this one day? She had purposed to be very good, and calm, like Mr. Digby; and now already she felt as if a bunch of nettles had been drawn all over her. What an unmanageable thing was this temper of hers. She went down stairs slowly and lingeringly. The two looked at her again as she entered the room; now that her cloak was off, the new dress came into view.
"Where did you get that dress, Rotha?" was her aunt's question.
"Mrs. Mowbray got it for me."
"Does she propose to send me the bill by and by?"
"Of course not! Aunt Serena, Mrs. Mowbray never does mean