up theboy to vicious habits without a struggle (cost what it might) to savehim! The housekeeper told him, with tears, that she had observedReuben's habit of petty lying and taking any thing he fancied, verysoon after his admission to the house; but she confessed that she hadnot had the heart to inform her young Master, lest he should send theboy away who had seemed to take him so out of his trouble! This waswhat she most thought about. So she had tried to correct the childherself, but not with the success she had desired. "How little sheknows the heart," thought Theodore, "his evil propensities would havebeen an additional claim upon my kindness!"
I will pass over all that Theodore said to the boy himself. No fathercould have been more earnest, more solemn in his warnings, or morekind in his expostulations. Reuben, by this time, could understand allhe said, and shame and repentance burnt in his face during a painfulinterview. It is right to remind you, dear children, of the manyexcuses that were to be made for him. He had been brought up, tillseven years old, in total ignorance of God, and without ever havingheard one duty commanded or one sin forbidden. The woman lied dailyand hourly in his sight, and made him do the same; and she took allshe could lay hold of in any way, and beat him if he did not followher example; and although Theodore's instructions had opened a newworld on the child's mind, the _evil_ HABITS were not so soon got ridof. So there the mischief was; and now the great difficulty Theodorefelt, was to know what to do for the best. And, after muchconsideration, he decided to send him to school, as the likeliestmeans of eradicating the bad habits the boy had acquired. I say_habits_, rather than dispositions, for there was indeed nothing meanor sneaking about his character. On the contrary, he was bothcourageous and generous in the turn of his mind, and, after his healthimproved, his manners partook of the same freedom and candour.
To school therefore poor Reuben went; and Theodore was almostastonished himself at the blank which his absence created.
But having desired that continued reports should be sent to him of hisconduct, he meanwhile began seriously to think what was to become ofhim hereafter. At last it occurred to him that he might employ him insome way or other about his property; and with a view to this,Theodore himself began to take more interest in his estate than he hadhad the energy to bestow before, and made himself more intimatelyacquainted with the wants and modes of life of those under hiscontrol.
Thus another year passed away in quiet but constant occupation; andthe many opportunities Theodore now had of doing good, softened andcheered his mind. But he was not quite cured. For of all things in theworld whims are the very hardest to cure, because, reason as you will,people still stick to their whims. Reuben was not allowed to returnonce during that year to the old hall. During the last few months,however, his progress had been most satisfactory, and the Masterconsidered that the evil was overcome; and so, at the end of the year,Theodore wrote word to Reuben that he wished him to come "home" forhis holidays. Poor Reuben cried bitterly again when he read theletter; for, as he said to the Master, "It is _not_ my home, though hehas been very good to me. I have no home!"
Theodore's heart overflowed with pleasure and almost pride when he sawthe boy again. Every turn in the expression of his face was improved;and when Theodore first took his hand, the lad bent his face over itand sobbed out an entreaty for pardon for his dreadful wickedness."Reuben," cried Theodore, "never say that again. All is forgottensince your conduct is changed. Forget the past as soon as possible. Itwill never be remembered by me."
Time went on during the holidays very happily on the whole. In factthere was no drawback; but that now and then Theodore, who would oftensit looking at his adopted child's face, noticed a painful expressionwhich he could not account for. His conduct was irreproachable and hisrespect for Theodore seemed, if possible, increased; but he would notbe frank with him, and no encouragement beguiled him into the ease oftrusted affection. Theodore did not choose to notice this for someweeks, but, as the time of Reuben's return to school drew near, he wasunwilling to let him go without some expostulation.
"Reuben," said he one day, "you are going back to school. Your conducthas quite satisfied me: but tell me, before you go, why you so oftenlook unhappy? It is a poor return (though I now touch on this subjectfor the first time in my life), it is a poor return for the interest Ihave taken in you; and for the real love you know I feel towards you!"
For a moment Reuben's large dark eyes glanced up at Theodore's face;but they sank again as quickly: his cheeks grew crimson, and tearsrolled over them which he could not conceal.
"What is the matter, Reuben; what is the meaning of this? Am I lovingone who does not love me in return?"
"You _cannot_ love me, Sir!" ejaculated the boy so earnestly that itquite startled his companion.
"Reuben, what _can_ you mean? Have you forgotten how I have taken youand acted by you as if I had been your Father. I _cannot love_ you?What else but _love_ for you has made me do what I have done?"
"That was all your goodness and the kindness of your heart, Sir. Youcouldn't love me when you picked me up in the road. It was pity andkindness, and it has been the same ever since; not _Love_--" and thetears again struggled to his eyes.
Theodore rushed suddenly from the room and into his private apartment,and falling on his knees, spread his hands over his head in prayer."My Lord and my God!" cried he solemnly, "what means this echo from myown heart? Am I awake, or do I dream?" A profound silence was aroundhim; but, as he arose and opened his eyes, he beheld before him,though fading rapidly from his sight, the angelic visions he had seentwo years before.
* * * * *
He returned to Reuben, who was sitting at the table, his face buriedin his arms.
Theodore laid his hand upon him. "Reuben, look up! You are under agreat mistake. You are but a boy, and must not fancy you know the insand outs of the human heart. Reuben, I do love you, and have alwaysloved you."
"You cannot, Sir!"
"Again? and why not?"
"You are too much above me; I am an outcast, and was a beggar. Itwasn't likely you could _love_ me at any time. Besides, there has beensomething since."
"What?"
"You told me to forget it, Sir, but I cannot. After all your kindnessand goodness, and trying to make me happy and do me every good, I wasall along (during the first year), doing what was wrong, deceiving youand injuring you. I am not only an outcast, but I have been wicked andungrateful, and made you unhappy by my misconduct. Indeed I cannotbear to think of it; but I dare not deceive myself about your _Love_,Sir! I know you _cannot_ love me; but I am so grateful to you for yourgoodness, I hope you will not be angry with me for speaking the truth:only, though I am grateful and try to be contented, I cannot be as_happy_ as if you _did_ love me."
As Theodore gazed on poor Reuben's face, he saw standing behind himthe beautiful visions once more.
"Now judge by your own heart!" murmured the Spirits, as smiling theydisappeared.
And Theodore did so. Going up to Reuben, he put his arms around him,and wept over him tears of love and gratitude for the blessing whichhe felt stealing into his own mind. "Reuben," cried he, "my childReuben! There have been but two human beings in the world on whom Ihave bestowed my love; for, like you, I lost my parents young. Thesetwo were--her I lost and yourself!"
"If I thought you _loved_ me, I would die for you!" cried Reuben,springing up and gazing earnestly on Theodore's face.
"My God!" murmured Theodore, "may I be able to feel this to Thee!"
* * * * *
I think more words are unnecessary. You cannot doubt that Theodoresoon convinced Reuben of his love, nor that Theodore took the lessonto himself, and now saw that God had placed in the human heart awitness of the possibility of His love to man. Yes, the clingingaffection we feel for those we have been kind to; our own power offorgiving _any_ thing to them; is an instinct which has beenmercifully implanted in our hearts to teach us to believe in that Loveof God, which is otherwise so incredible
to human reason.
If you care to know what became of Theodore and Reuben, you must infancy pass over a few years. Reuben soon had so strong a wish to go tosea, that he entered the merchant service; and by the time he becameMaster of his own vessel and revisited the hall when he came ashore,Theodore was to be found there with a kind and gentle wife by hisside; and frolicking about the ancient hall were a parcel of noisychildren, to whom the arrival from sea of him whom they alwaysunaccountably would call "Uncle Reuben," was ever a gala treat. Dearreaders, Farewell!
BENEDICITE.
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