Hesper, the Home-Spirit

Alone in her little chamber once more, the feeling of her desolation came upon her with over-powering force. Still clothed in her wedding garments, she sat by the open window, looking out through the branches of the trees upon the distant landscape which lay so bright and beautiful beneath the summer moonlight. She held her clasped hands over her heart with a sensation of pain, and as the unnatural firmness to which she had nerved herself gave way, the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Then she thought of that land of peace, “where they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven” – where “there is no more sorrow or crying, but where tears are wiped from all faces.” Never before had she felt such a yearning to lay down her earthly garment and leave the crushing cares of earth behind forever.

“O, that I had wings like a dove, that I might flee away and be at rest,” she exclaimed, as with tearful eyes she looked up to the cloudless heavens. “Pitying Father, take thy poor heart-stricken child to thyself!”

The air of the room seemed close and stifling to her. She longed to be away upon the hill-tops or in the woods, where she had so often wandered. Acting from the impulse of the moment, she threw her shawl around her, and stealing gently down stairs, unbolted the door and passed out. Neither knowing or caring whither she went, she pursued her way with hurrying footsteps, till she came to the village grave-yard.

“O,” she murmured, as she threw open the little gate and entered the enclosure, “ye calm, quiet sleepers, how sincerely do I wish that I too was resting among you!” Then she stopped suddenly, and pressed her hands to her forehead.

“How is it,” she added, in a calmer tone, “am I beside myself, that at midnight I come hither with such wishes upon my lips, because a selfish sorrow has taken possession of my heart? Have I not parents and friends, and all the world to live for? and was life given us only to seek out our individual interests, independent of all beside? O, what a poor, miserable sinner I am!” Weeping most sincerely over her own weakness and folly, she passed on till she came to the little marble tablet beneath which simple Johnny lay buried. The sighing of the night winds through the willows that grew near his grave, seemed like the soft whisperings of his angel voice. She cast herself with her face downward upon the green mound that covered the child’s resting place, and wept without restraint. How long she remained thus she could not tell, for her very senses seemed to pass away, and she lay there in a state of dreamy unconsciousness. She only knew, that at last, a gentle hand was laid upon her, and some one called her name. Raising her head, she beheld her mother close beside her.

“My child! my poor dear child!” said her mother, “let me take you close into my bosom, as I did when you were an infant, and comfort you with my love.”

“Mother!” said Hesper, “how came you here?”

“I knew, poor child,” she replied, “that your heart was bleeding in anguish, and therefore I could not sleep. I heard you when you went forth, and followed you hither, waiting a little way off, till the first gush of sorrow had passed, for I know by my own experience, that at such moments it is better for the soul to be alone with its God. O Hesper! my child! my child! I would to God I could have borne this great grief for thee! but it might not be. I know also, that it was well I could not shield thee from this chastening of His love. Bear up beneath it bravely and patiently, my child, and in the end you shall see that He ordereth all things well.” “Yes, mother,” said Hesper, “take me close into your bosom, and let me warm myself upon your loving heart, for greater than your daughter’s sorrow, is a conscious sense of her own selfishness and sin. I thank God in this hour of trial that you are yet spared to me – that I have your faithful bosom to shed my tears upon. I have dared once in my life, mother, to lay plans for my own future – to sketch a bright picture in my imagination, all radiant with hopes of happiness and selfish enjoyment, but I will do so no longer. The vision has passed, and left me sadder but wiser. I thank God for it! and here now, upon this sacred altar of your heart, do I pledge myself to live henceforth only for the good of others. Strengthen me, mother, and pray for me, lest my heart should fail me, for I am too weak to pray for myself.”

They knelt down upon the mound together, and the mother’s petition went up through the solemn silence, beseeching most earnestly that a blessing of strength and consolation might fall upon the heart of her sorrowing child. Those two weak women, kneeling at midnight in that lonely grave-yard, had angel guardians whose help was greater than that of man, and the words of prayer that ascended from those trembling lips, was answered by a blessing of peace, “such as the world can neither give or take away.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

LIVING FOR OTHERS

“Mother,” said Hesper one day, after sitting in thoughtful silence for some time, “I feel that I must leave home and be doing something decided and useful, or my energies will all rust out in idleness. I have a good opportunity, too, and I think I ought to improve it. Dr. Smiley informs me that a teacher is wanting in the Institution for the Blind, and he says he will secure me the situation at once, if I desire it.”

“Dear me!” said her mother, “I hardly know how we can do without you, my child. That is, without your company, for it is true, that while your father is doing so well, and I have my health, that we really do not need you. But then I dread to have you go out into the great world, for it is cruel and cold, and has many sorrows for a young and tender heart like yours.” “And that is one great reason why I wish to go, mother, for I desire to pass through the furnace, that I may come out strong and pure at last. I am ready for all things but idleness, that alone burdens my spirit, and leaves me to weep over sorrows that I cannot cure.”

“Well child,” said her mother. “I think you are right. Act as your heart dictates, and have no fear for the result.”

It was only a few weeks after this, that Hesper gave her parting kiss to her friends, and stepping into the stage coach, bade her home farewell for the first time. She felt like a lone bird cast out upon the world, but the strong purpose in her heart sustained her, and she entered upon the duties of her responsible position without fear. At first, with her home sickness and heart sickness, it was a hard struggle, and she feared she should sink beneath it, but she persevered, and gradually her new employment became to her a matter of all-absorbing interest.

The little blind children came with their soft hands and gentle touch, and traced out feature by feature of her face, that they might form a picture in their minds, of her they had learned to love so well. They were soon able to distinguish her footsteps from all others, and her voice seemed like music to their ears. Her sympathy became a necessary thing to the happiness of these youthful unfortunates, and her name was an oft repeated word in their prayers. Gradually the peace that passeth all understanding found an abiding place in her soul, and diffused its serene light over her whole countenance. There was something indescribable in her mien and manner, which drew all hearts after her, and Hesper Greyson, with her meekness and humility, became at length what she had earnestly desired to be: – “A high, pure star, to herald on the weary to the land of rest.” She had learned to live above self, and had consecrated all her powers, without reserve, to the service of others. For one whole year she devoted herself most faithfully to the performance of her duties at the Institution, only accepting, at long intervals, the privilege of a few days to look in upon the loved ones at home. At the end of this year, however, she was to have a vacation of some two or three weeks. She had received intelligence that Mose had arrived, and also during her stay at home, he and Alice were to unite their destinies for life, therefore she looked forward with no slight interest to this interval of rest. She also determined, that upon her way home, she would pass through the city, and spend one night with her old friends, Harry and Juliana, for they had left home shortly after their marriage, and she had not seen them since – indeed, had only heard from them, except by an occasional letter from Juliana, in which she besought Hesper most earnestly to come and make her a visit.

It was an affecting scene to look upon, when the little blind children gathered around her, as she stood in the hall, ready for her departure. Some clasped their loving arms about her, and imprinted warm kisses of farewell upon her cheeks, while others “fell upon her neck and wept sore,” as if their sorrow-stricken hearts already had a presentiment that their beloved teacher would return to them no more.

It was about sunset when Hesper arrived at the residence of her friends in the city. Her ring at the door was answered by Juliana herself, with an infant in her arms. She seemed overjoyed at the sight of Hesper, but Hesper, in return, could only gaze at her friend in silent astonishment, for a most wonderful change had come over her. The dazzling beauty which had once rendered her an object of such general admiration, had all faded away, leaving her face pale and careworn, and in her once brilliant eyes, there was a look of weariness and disappointment, which betrayed a hidden source of sorrow within.

“I am as glad to see you, Hesper,” she said, “as if you were an angel from heaven, for I have hushed up my heart-aches as long as I can bear them, and now I want to pour them all out into your friendly bosom. You were always full of sympathy and love, and I know you are no less so now. How calm and peaceful you look, Hesper, as though you had been thinking of nothing but God and heavenly things ever since I saw you last – while I – O dear!” – and bowing her head to the face of her sleeping child, she burst into tears. Hesper put her arm tenderly around her, and laid her soft cheek to that of her weeping friend.

“You may thank heaven, Hesper,” continued Juliana, “that Harry didn’t marry you, for if he had, you would have been just where I am now. No,” she added quickly, “you would have made a man of him, but it isn’t in me to do that. I haven’t either the faith or patience; but, to speak plain, I get outrageously mad when Harry makes a fool of himself, and I let him know it, too. There’s nothing to do then, but to take it out in quarrelling, and so we have it hot and heavy sometimes, I can tell you. It is only about six months now, since he fell into bad company and evil ways, but if that six months is a specimen of what I am to expect, I hope I may be in my grave before the end of another week.”

“Don’t be discouraged, Juliana,” said Hesper, kindly – “Harry has a good spot left yet in his heart, and the ‘charity that never faileth’ may save him, even now, from destruction.”

“Hesper Greyson!” exclaimed Juliana, “I never saw any one like you in my life. I believe you would try to reform Satan himself by the power of love, if you only had the opportunity. But then it is one thing to say, and another to do, and if you were only in my place for a little while, I believe you would give up all such thoughts forever, and grow desperate like myself.”

“I would accomplish my work, or die,” said Hesper – “more especially, if I had a little one like that, to link me to the one who should be a true and loving father to it.”

“My poor little baby!” said Juliana, as she pressed the child more closely to her bosom; “for his sake alone I have kept back many a hard word and unkindly feeling, for O! it seems a dreadful thing to think of a tender little one growing up after the example of such a father. Yes, for the baby’s sake, if not for my own, I would do all that lay in my power to reform Harry,” and she wept without restraint.

The tea hour came and went, but Harry did not make his appearance, and it was not till a late hour that he sought his home. Then it was evident that he was no longer master of himself, for, upon entering, he staggered across the room without recognizing Hesper, and fell down, all in a heap, near the sofa, upon which he had intended to throw himself. Juliana turned deadly pale, and bit her lips together with a look of desperation.

“There, Hesper,” she said, “what would you do, if that was your husband?”

“I should wait until he was sober, and then plead with him as only a loving wife and mother can. Did you ever try it, Juliana?”

“No! never! The first time he came home thus, I could not find words to express my indignation. I told him that I utterly despised him, and for days not a word passed between us; but, O Hesper! they were the most miserable days of my life. I thought they would kill me. I would do anything rather than experience the like again, for I love him yet, and cannot bear to give him up.”

“Then tell him so,” said Hesper, “and prove it by all your actions. I tell you his nature cannot long stand out against it. Many a worse man has been reformed by a true woman’s love.” Juliana laid her child in the cradle, and taking a pillow, she placed it at one end of the sofa. “Hesper,” she said, “take hold of Harry’s feet, will you, and help me lift him upon the sofa?” Hesper immediately complied with her request, and the work was accomplished with little difficulty, for he made no resistance.

“There, now, Hesper,” said Juliana, in a calm, resolute tone – “let me show you to your chamber. As for me, I shall sit by my drunken husband through the night, and if morning brings him back to his reason – God helping me, I will speak to him as I have never done before.”

It was long past midnight ere Hesper closed her eyes in sleep, for her heart was full of sympathy for her friend. She was very weary, however, and therefore did not waken again, till the morning sun was shining brightly into her window, and the jostle and tumult of city life had fully commenced in the street below. Arraying herself in haste, she stole quietly to the head of the stairs. She could hear the sound of voices engaged in earnest conversation below, and therefore she did not go down. A full half hour longer she waited, and then descended to the parlor. Upon entering the room she found Juliana seated beside her husband on the sofa, with her sleeping child in her arms. Harry’s arm was around her, and her head rested upon his bosom. He was very pale indeed, and it was evident that both had been weeping.

“Come hither, Hesper,” said Harry, in a voice tremulous with emotion, as he extended his hand towards her, “you see me here, completely conquered. Strong man as I am, I have become weak as a little child before this woman’s love. O Hesper! if there is anything that will save me from destruction, it is that!” and pressing his wife more closely to his bosom, he kissed her with unfeigned affection. Hesper knelt down beside them, and took their clasped hands in her own.

“Pray for me,” said Harry, “for your prayers, I feel assured, will find acceptance before heaven.” And Hesper did pray, with all the fervent earnestness of her soul, till it seemed as though the very presence of the Lord was in their midst. Harry was deeply moved, and as she concluded, he drew the hands of the two weeping women into his own.

“Be my witnesses this day,” he said, “as I solemnly pledge myself, before God and His angels, henceforth to avoid all intoxicating drinks and evil association. And I will also strive, as far as in me lies, to become a faithful husband and father, and a useful member in society. Whatever my weaknesses or follies are, or may have been, I never was guilty of untruthfulness, therefore you may consider the resolution which I take now, as unchangeable.” A bright, joyful smile beamed over Juliana’s countenance, as she looked up to him with an expression of perfect confidence and love.

“It is enough, Harry,” she said, “and I also will promise that you shall never want for love or patience upon my part, to encourage you in your way.”

A few hours after this, Hesper had once more started upon her homeward journey, and on her arrival, found not only Mose in waiting for her, but also his friend, Mr. Clyde, who had returned from his European tour, and was intending to stop with the family until after the expected marriage.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE EVENING STAR

“Hesper,” said aunt Betsey, as she dropped in one afternoon with her knitting, “has that Mr. Clyde come a courting?”

“Come a courting!” repeated Hesper – (using an expression which she greatly disliked) – “who?”

“Why you, to be sure,” said aunt Betsey. “I asked for information, because, if he has, I should like to know for a very particular reason.”

“Well, no,” said Hesper, “he merely came to see Mose, and only intends remaining till after the marriage.”

“Dear me! I’m sorry,” said aunt Betsey, “for, Hesper, I tell you the truth – I verily believe you will be an old maid, and if you don’t talk up to Mr. Clyde or somebody, pretty soon, it will be a gone case with you.”

“Very well,” replied Hesper – “if it depends upon my making the first advances, my fate is already decided, and my case hopeless, for I never shall offer myself directly or indirectly to any man.”

“But,” said aunt Betsey, after a few moment’s thoughtful silence – “if you should change your mind, and Mr. Clyde or some one else should offer himself, do let me know in time, for that satin bed-quilt of mine, is packed away in the attic, with a whole chest full of other clothes, and I want to get it down to shake, and brush, and air it as it should be, before I make you a present of it; for I never shall do the least thing in the world with it.”

“Well,” said Hesper, “I will let you know in time;” and with this promise aunt Betsey seemed perfectly contented. She looked very graciously over her spectacles at Mr. Clyde, when he came in, and in the course of conversation, took occasion to remark that she thought Hesper had improved wonderfully during her absence from home. She was most unusually condescending and amiable, and when she arose to depart, she remarked that she should call often while Mr. Clyde was there, as she enjoyed the conversation of such intelligent people very much.

There was a glorious sunset that evening. The whole western sky seemed all a blaze with the gold and crimson splendors of the King of Day. The trees and the green hill-tops were glowing with the radiant light, and the ocean, in its waveless calm, reflecting back the brightness of the heavens, seemed like a molten sea of gold.

“Come, Hesper,” said Mr. Clyde, “let us go along the brook side, and climb up the old rock, where we can watch these sunset fires die out on Nature’s altar.”

“Ah! this makes me think of old Italy!” he said, as they wandered along the forest path – “fair Italy! And yet, with all the splendor and beauty of that favored clime, which I have so often gazed upon, this scene is dearer far to me, because it is my own native land.”

“There is no place like home, after all, Hesper,” he added, as he put forth his arm to aid her up the steep ascent; “I cannot tell you how often my heart turned back with an unutterable yearning to these shores, and even to this very spot, where I saw you last, weaving violets and green leaves together, while the lights and shadows through the forest boughs were playing across your countenance.”

“You have changed very much since then,” he continued, as he looked her thoughtfully in the face. “You are less of the child, and more of the woman now, in experience. There is a soft and chastened expression upon every feature, and in your eyes a deep, spiritual light, such as can only come through a long and trying discipline of sorrow. O Hesper, you and I both know what it is to pass under the shadow of a great and desolating grief, but your soul has come out chastened and purified by the trial, while mine still lingers in darkness and unreconciliation. My very existence, as it creeps slowly onward, day by day, has become a wearisome burden – for what is the future without hope, or life without love?”

“Let us not think of such things,” said Hesper, gently, “for the heart cannot forget its bitterness while memory continually renews its grief. Beyond and around us all, lie sweetly harmonizing influences, which we can draw into our hearts if we will, and soothe all discordant murmurings to rest.”

“See yonder,” she continued, “where the evening star looks brightly forth amid the fading glories of the sunset. The twilight will deepen, and the evening shadows prevail, but that star will grow brighter and brighter, until at length it will be the fairest object to which the eye of the way-worn and weary will turn. Thus is it with the patient, persevering heart; the shadows of life may deepen and darken around it, but its light grows clearer and brighter, until it becomes a guiding star of peace to many a troubled spirit. God grant, friend, that such a high and holy mission may be yours!”

“Not mine, but yours, good angel,” said Mr. Clyde, as he turned towards her; “it is already yours. Three years ago, as we sat together at the foot of this rock, you bade me go forth to the world and live for the sake of others as far as in me lay, and I did so, and all the peace I have experienced has come through that channel alone. Now, as if an emblem of our own spiritual progress, we meet again, not at the foot, but at the summit of the rock; yet over me the shadows are still brooding. O Hesper! star of peace and never failing charity, send down the light of thy love into the darkened depths of my heart!”

As he spoke, he drew her, like a frightened dove, close to his bosom. For one moment she shrank and trembled, and then, with all the loving gratitude of her nature, she accepted this strong refuge from her loneliness and sorrow. Far off, in the distant woods, the whip-poor-will sung his plaintive song, and the soft rippling brook made sweet music below. The evening star looked mildly from the western sky, and all nature with mute sympathy, seemed to mingle in their joy, but no eye, save those of God and his angels, witnessed the consecration of these two faithful hearts. One week after this, there was a double wedding at the doctor’s, against which no disapproving word was spoken, for the village gossips entered by mutual agreement into a treaty of peace, on account of the general invitation that was extended. Aunt Betsey’s countenance was wreathed with smiles of satisfaction, and Mr. Byers, who always had an eye to business, retired to a corner, and covered several pages of his note book with wise remarks and philosophical conclusions, which the occasion had called forth.

“Mrs. Dorothy,” he said to aunt Nyna, very privately, when a convenient opportunity offered, “I think that the example of these young people is worthy of all imitation, and I feel, moreover, that considering our lonely condition, it behooveth both you and I, that we mutually agree to go and do likewise.”

“Yea, verily, friend,” replied the good lady, in her usual quiet manner, “thee hast spoken my mind exactly;” and from that time forth the matter was decided.

Years have intervened since then, but even now, in a pleasant cottage by the brook, where the spring flowers bloom earliest and the autumn leaves are last to fall, dwells Hesper, the Home Spirit, for her mission is not yet ended. Joyful little ones, with dancing feet and smiling countenances, come and go over the threshold, and he who chose that star of peace as the guide to his earthly pathway, still walks by her serene light, rejoicing in a “love that never faileth.”