"It was impossible to contemplate that fearful lake without a shudder.
They must leave the place soon and for ever. Oh, had Emily's life been
spared, she could have endured any and everything for her sake. Poor
thing! how little she knew what she was a talking about, as she broke
the seal of a letter in a well-known hand. Her life was spared; it
never was endangered. She had eloped with Tom Hodges--she had reached
Boston--she was very happy--Tom was all kindness to her. She hoped
they would forgive her and write to her, for they were going to
California, where they proposed to be married as soon as they arrived.
Who ever appealed to a mother for forgiveness in vain? Everything
appeared in a new light. The child had been neglected; she ought not
to have been suffered to spend so much of her time with that boy; both
her parents had strangely forgotten that they had grown up, and--it
was no use to say more. Her father had locked her out of his heart,
and thrown away the key for ever. He wished she had been drowned, for
in that case she would have died innocent; and he poured out such a
torrent of imprecations, that the poor mother was terrified lest, as
the Persians say, these curses, like fowls, might return home to
roost, or like prayers, might be heard, and procure more than was
asked.
"You may grieve over the conduct of a child, and lament its untimely
death, and trust in God for his mercy; but no human being can reverse
the order of things, and first mourn the decease of a child, and then
grieve for its disgraceful life; for there is a grave again to be dug,
and who knoweth whether the end shall be peace? We can endure much,
but there is a load that crusheth.
Pages:
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586