"Charley and I are quite good friends again," she began."We have jaunted about everywhere, and have a delightful time.What a snug little box of a house you have!"It is inconveniently small," I said, "for our family is large and the doctor needs more office room.""Does he receive patients here? How horrid! Don't you hate to have people with all sorts of ills and aches in the house? It must depress your spirits.""I dare say it would if I saw them; but I never do.""I should like to see your children.Your husband says you are perfectly devoted to them.""As I suppose all mothers are," I replied, laughing.
"As to that," she returned, "people differ."
The children were brought down.She admired little Ernest, as everybody does, but only glanced at the baby.
"What a sickly-looking little thing!" she said."But this boy is a splendid fellow! Ah, if mine had lived he would have been just such a child! But some people have all the trouble and others all the comfort.I am, sure I don't know what I have done that I should have to lose my only boy, and have nothing left but girls.To be sure, Ican afford to dress them elegantly, and as soon as they get old enough I mean to have them taught all sorts of accomplishments.You can't imagine what a relief it is to have plenty of money!""Indeed I can't!" I said; "it is quite beyond the reach of my imagination.""My uncle--that is to say Charley's uncle-has just given me a carriage and horses for my own use.In fact, he heaps everything upon me.Where do you go to church?"I told her, reminding her that Dr.Cabot was its pastor.
"Oh, I forgot! Poor Dr.Cabot! Is he as old-fashioned as ever?""I don't know what you mean," I cried."He is as good as ever, if not better.His health is very delicate, and that one thing seems to be a blessing to him.""A blessing! Why, Kate Mortimer! Kate Elliott, I mean.It is a blessing I, for one, am very willing to dispense with.But you always did say queer things.Well, I dare say Dr.Cabot is very good and all that, but his church is not a fashionable one, and Charley and I go to Dr.Bellamy's.That is, I go once a day, pretty regularly, and Charley goes when he feels like it.Good-by.I must go now; I have all my fall shopping to do.Have you done yours? Suppose you jump into the carriage and go with me? You can't imagine how it passes away the morning to drive from shop to shop looking over the new goods.""There seem to be a number of things I can't imagine," I replied, dryly."You must excuse me this morning."She took her leave..I looked at her rich dress as she gathered it about her and swept away, and recalled all her empty, frivolous talk with contempt.
She and Ch---, her husband, I mean, are well matched.They need their money, and their palaces and their fine clothes and handsome equipages, for they have nothing else.How thankful I am that I am as unlike them as ex---OCTOBER 30.-I'm sure I don't know what I was going to say when I was interrupted just then.Something in the way of self-glorification, most likely.I remember the contempt with which I looked after Amelia as she left our house, and the pinnacle on which I sat perched for some days, when I compared my life with hers.Alas, it was my view of life of which I was lost in admiration, for I am.sure that if I ever come under the complete dominion of Christ's gospel I shall not know the Sentiment of disdain.I feel truly ashamed and sorry that I am still so far from being penetrated with that spirit.
My pride has had a terrible fall.As I sat on my throne, looking down on all the Amelias in the world, I felt a profound pity at their delight in petty trifles, their love of position, of mere worldly show and passing vanities.
"They are all alike," I said to myself."They are incapable of understanding a character like mine, or the exalted, ennobling principles that govern me.They crave the applause of this world, they are satisfied with fine clothes, fine houses, fine equipages.
They think and talk of nothing else; I have not one idea in common with them.I see the emptiness and hollowness of these things.I am absolutely unworldly; my ambition is to attain whatever they, in their blind folly and ignorance, absolutely despise."Thus communing with myself, I was not a little pleased to hear Dr.
Cabot and his wife announced.I hastened to meet them and to display to them the virtues I so admired in myself.They had hardly a chance to utter a word.I spoke eloquently of my contempt for worldly vanities, and of my enthusiastic longings for a higher life.I even went into particulars about the foibles of some of my acquaintances, though faint misgivings as to the propriety of.such remarks on the absent made me half repent the words I still kept uttering.When they took leave I rushed to my room with my heart beating, my cheeks all in a glow, and caught up and caressed the children in a way that seemed to astonish them.Then I took my work and sat down to sew.
What a horrible reaction now took place! I saw my refined, subtle, disgusting pride, just as I suppose Dr.and Mrs.Cabot saw it! I sat covered with confusion, shocked at myself, shocked at the weakness of human nature.Oh, to get back the good opinion of my friends! To recover my own self-respect! But this was impossible.I threw down my work and walked about my room.There was a terrible struggle in my soul.I saw that instead of brooding over the display I had made of myself to Dr.Cabot I ought to be thinking solely of my appearance in the sight of God, who could see far more plainly than any earthly eye could all my miserable pride and self-conceit.But I could not do that, and chafed about till I was worn out, body and soul.At last Isent the children away, and knelt down and told the whole story to Him who knew what I was when He had compassion on me, called me by my name, and made me His own child.And here, I found a certain peace.
Christian, on his way to the celestial city, met and fought his Apollyons and his giants, too; but he got there at last!
