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Page 8
"How pale Miss Wiltshire looks to-night," observed one young lady to
another who was seated at the piano as Agnes entered the apartment.
"She does, indeed, pale and sad both," was the response.
Arthur, who had overheard the remark, could not help admitting to
himself its correctness, as he crossed the room to pay his respects to
Agnes, and as, unobserved, he watched her closely, it was evident to him
that, while with her usual unselfishness, she strove to promote the
happiness of others by entering cheerfully into conversation, from the
half suppressed sigh, and the shadow that at intervals stole over her
face, some painful subject, very foreign from the scene around, occupied
her thoughts.
"I am afraid you are not well to-night, Miss Wiltshire," he at length
said, in a tone low and gentle as a woman's, for Agnes, seated on a
corner of the sofa, and imagining herself unobserved by the rest of the
company, had for a moment closed her eyes, as though to shut out
surrounding objects, while an expression of mental anguish flitted
across her features.
How precious to the aching heart is human sympathy. The words were
nothing in themselves, but the tenderness of tone in which they were
spoken, told plainly that it was anything but a matter of indifference
to the speaker, and Agnes, blushing deeply as she met Arthur's
compassionate glance, felt the conviction, darting like a ray of sunbeam
through her mind, that to at least one person in the world she was
dearer than aught else beside.
"I have only a slight headache," was her reply to his kind inquiry, and
one which was strictly correct, for the headache was the result of
mental agitation during the day.
"I shall recommend you, then, to sit quite still, while I constitute
myself, for the evening, your devoted knight; and shall, therefore,
remain here, ready to obey your slightest behests, be they what they
may."
"I shall certainly then insist, in the first place, that others be not
deprived of the pleasure of your company for my gratification. I should
be selfish, indeed, if I allowed you to do so."
"Notwithstanding, here I am, and here I intend to remain until I am
forced away," said Arthur, smiling as, seating himself comfortably
beside her on the sofa, he drew a portfolio from the centre table, which
contained some sketches taken during his recent tour, and, in pointing
out the different places and relating his adventures in each, Agnes
became so much interested as to forget her headache, and even the
anxiety which had weighed down her mind but a short time before.
There was one picture that seemed particularly to attract her attention.
It was the sketch of a small church, whose white walls peeped out from
the midst of thick foliage, and whose opened doors seemed to welcome the
worshippers that in every direction were seen apparently wending their
way towards it.
Agnes gazed at it long and earnestly. She laid it down and took it up
again, while Arthur, who could not imagine why she seemed to admire this
sketch in preference to others whose artistic merits were far superior,
gazed on her with some surprise.
"I see you are wondering, Mr. Bernard," she said, as she marked the
inquiring expression of his countenance, "why this scene should
particularly attract me. It is because it reminds me of the happiest
hours of my life, for, in a church, whose situation and appearance
exactly resembles this, I first learned where true bliss was to be
found."
"A valuable lesson truly, Miss Wiltshire, and one which I would feel
thankful if you could impart to me, for I assure you I am sadly in need
of it. Dissatisfied with the world, I still see so much hypocrisy in the
church,--there are so many, even among those who minister in holy
things, who seem by their actions wedded to the vanities which they
profess to renounce, that I turn away with a feeling akin to disgust,
and am almost ready to believe that the piety which characterized the
first professors of Christianity has totally disappeared."
"Perhaps you have not been looking for it in the right place, Mr.
Bernard. There are many whose religion consists in outward observances,
while the heart is given up to its idol; but, granting there was not one
in the world who was really the possessor of true religion, 'What is
that to thee?' The claims of Heaven are not less binding on you, because
not recognized or responded to by the multitude, for each must render an
account of himself, whether the offering of the heart, the only
acceptable one, has been presented, or whether we have turned coldly
away from the voice of the charmer, charm it ever so wisely."
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