University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.
AT FORTY.

“NEARLY twenty years since I set out to seek my
fortune. It has been a long search, but I think
I have found it at last. I only asked to be a useful,
happy woman, and my wish is granted: for, I believe
I am useful; I know I am happy.”

Christie looked so as she sat alone in the flowery parlor
one September afternoon, thinking over her life with
a grateful, cheerful spirit. Forty to-day, and pausing at
that half-way house between youth and age, she looked
back into the past without bitter regret or unsubmissive
grief, and forward into the future with courageous patience;
for three good angels attended her, and with
faith, hope, and charity to brighten life, no woman need
lament lost youth or fear approaching age. Christie
did not, and though her eyes filled with quiet tears as
they were raised to the faded cap and sheathed sword
hanging on the wall, none fell; and in a moment tender
sorrow changed to still tenderer joy as her glance wandered
to rosy little Ruth playing hospital with her dollies
in the porch. Then they shone with genuine satisfaction
as they went from the letters and papers on her
table to the garden, where several young women were

at work with a healthful color in the cheeks that had
been very pale and thin in the spring.

“I think David is satisfied with me; for I have given
all my heart and strength to his work, and it prospers
well,” she said to herself, and then her face grew
thoughtful, as she recalled a late event which seemed to
have opened a new field of labor for her if she chose to
enter it.

A few evenings before she had gone to one of the
many meetings of working-women, which had made
some stir of late. Not a first visit, for she was much
interested in the subject and full of sympathy for this
class of workers.

There were speeches of course, and of the most
unparliamentary sort, for the meeting was composed
almost entirely of women, each eager to tell her special
grievance or theory. Any one who chose got up and
spoke; and whether wisely or foolishly each proved how
great was the ferment now going on, and how difficult
it was for the two classes to meet and help one another
in spite of the utmost need on one side and the sincerest
good-will on the other. The workers poured out
their wrongs and hardships passionately or plaintively,
demanding or imploring justice, sympathy, and help;
displaying the ignorance, incapacity, and prejudice,
which make their need all the more pitiful, their relief
all the more imperative.

The ladies did their part with kindliness, patience,
and often unconscious condescension, showing in their
turn how little they knew of the real trials of the
women whom they longed to serve, how very narrow a
sphere of usefulness they were fitted for in spite of culture

and intelligence, and how rich they were in generous
theories, how poor in practical methods of relief.

One accomplished creature with learning radiating
from every pore, delivered a charming little essay on
the strong-minded women of antiquity; then, taking
labor into the region of art, painted delightful pictures
of the time when all would work harmoniously together
in an Ideal Republic, where each did the task she liked,
and was paid for it in liberty, equality, and fraternity.

Unfortunately she talked over the heads of her audience,
and it was like telling fairy tales to hungry children
to describe Aspasia discussing Greek politics with
Pericles and Plato reposing upon ivory couches, or
Hypatia modestly delivering philosophical lectures to
young men behind a Tyrian purple curtain; and the
Ideal Republic met with little favor from anxious seamstresses,
type-setters, and shop-girls, who said ungratefully
among themselves, “That 's all very pretty, but I
don't see how it 's going to better wages among us
now.”

Another eloquent sister gave them a political oration
which fired the revolutionary blood in their veins,
and made them eager to rush to the State-house en
masse, and demand the ballot before one-half of them
were quite clear what it meant, and the other half were
as unfit for it as any ignorant Patrick bribed with a
dollar and a sup of whiskey.

A third well-wisher quenched their ardor like a wet
blanket, by reading reports of sundry labor reforms in
foreign parts; most interesting, but made entirely futile
by differences of climate, needs, and customs. She
closed with a cheerful budget of statistics, giving the

exact number of needle-women who had starved, gone
mad, or committed suicide during the past year; the
enormous profits wrung by capitalists from the blood
and muscles of their employés; and the alarming increase
in the cost of living, which was about to plunge
the nation into debt and famine, if not destruction
generally.

When she sat down despair was visible on many
countenances, and immediate starvation seemed to be
waiting at the door to clutch them as they went out;
for the impressible creatures believed every word and
saw no salvation anywhere.

Christie had listened intently to all this; had admired,
regretted, or condemned as each spoke; and felt a steadily
increasing sympathy for all, and a strong desire to
bring the helpers and the helped into truer relations
with each other.

The dear ladies were so earnest, so hopeful, and so
unpractically benevolent, that it grieved her to see so
much breath wasted, so much good-will astray; while
the expectant, despondent, or excited faces of the work-women
touched her heart; for well she knew how much
they needed help, how eager they were for light, how
ready to be led if some one would only show a possible
way.

As the statistical extinguisher retired, beaming with
satisfaction at having added her mite to the good cause,
a sudden and uncontrollable impulse moved Christie to
rise in her place and ask leave to speak. It was readily
granted, and a little stir of interest greeted her; for she
was known to many as Mr. Power's friend, David Sterling's
wife, or an army nurse who had done well. Whispers

circulated quickly, and faces brightened as they
turned toward her; for she had a helpful look, and her
first words pleased them. When the president invited
her to the platform she paused on the lowest step, saying
with an expressive look and gesture:

“I am better here, thank you; for I have been and
mean to be a working-woman all my life.”

“Hear! hear!” cried a stout matron in a gay bonnet,
and the rest indorsed the sentiment with a hearty
round. Then they were very still, and then in a clear,
steady voice, with the sympathetic undertone to it that
is so magical in its effect, Christie made her first speech
in public since she left the stage.

That early training stood her in good stead now,
giving her self-possession, power of voice, and ease of
gesture; while the purpose at her heart lent her the sort
of simple eloquence that touches, persuades, and convinces
better than logic, flattery, or oratory.

What she said she hardly knew: words came faster
than she could utter them, thoughts pressed upon her,
and all the lessons of her life rose vividly before her to
give weight to her arguments, value to her counsel, and
the force of truth to every sentence she uttered. She
had known so many of the same trials, troubles, and
temptations that she could speak understandingly of
them; and, better still, she had conquered or outlived
so many of them, that she could not only pity but help
others to do as she had done. Having found in labor
her best teacher, comforter, and friend, she could tell
those who listened that, no matter how hard or humble
the task at the beginning, if faithfully and bravely performed,
it would surely prove a stepping-stone to something

better, and with each honest effort they were
fitting themselves for the nobler labor, and larger
liberty God meant them to enjoy.

The women felt that this speaker was one of them;
for the same lines were on her face that they saw on
their own, her hands were no fine lady's hands, her
dress plainer than some of theirs, her speech simple
enough for all to understand; cheerful, comforting, and
full of practical suggestion, illustrations out of their
own experience, and a spirit of companionship that
uplifted their despondent hearts.

Yet more impressive than any thing she said was the
subtle magnetism of character, for that has a universal
language which all can understand. They saw and felt
that a genuine woman stood down there among them
like a sister, ready with head, heart, and hand to help
them help themselves; not offering pity as an alms, but
justice as a right. Hardship and sorrow, long effort
and late-won reward had been hers they knew; wife-hood,
motherhood, and widowhood brought her very
near to them; and behind her was the background of
an earnest life, against which this figure with health on
the cheeks, hope in the eyes, courage on the lips, and
the ardor of a wide benevolence warming the whole
countenance stood out full of unconscious dignity and
beauty; an example to comfort, touch, and inspire
them.

It was not a long speech, and in it there was no
learning, no statistics, and no politics; yet it was the
speech of the evening, and when it was over no one
else seemed to have any thing to say. As the meeting
broke up Christie's hand was shaken by many roughened

by the needle, stained with printer's ink, or hard
with humbler toil; many faces smiled gratefully at her,
and many voices thanked her heartily. But sweeter
than any applause were the words of one woman who
grasped her hand, and whispered with wet eyes:

“I knew your blessed husband; he was very good to
me, and I 've been thanking the Lord he had such a
wife for his reward!”

Christie was thinking of all this as she sat alone that
day, and asking herself if she should go on; for the
ladies had been as grateful as the women; had begged
her to come and speak again, saying they needed just
such a mediator to bridge across the space that now
divided them from those they wished to serve. She
certainly seemed fitted to act as interpreter between
the two classes; for, from the gentleman her father she
had inherited the fine instincts, gracious manners, and
unblemished name of an old and honorable race; from
the farmer's daughter, her mother, came the equally
valuable dower of practical virtues, a sturdy love of
independence, and great respect for the skill and courage
that can win it.

Such women were much needed and are not always
easy to find; for even in democratic America the hand
that earns its daily bread must wear some talent, name,
or honor as an ornament, before it is very cordially
shaken by those that wear white gloves.

“Perhaps this is the task my life has been fitting me
for,” she said. “A great and noble one which I should
be proud to accept and help accomplish if I can. Others
have finished the emancipation work and done it splendidly,
even at the cost of all this blood and sorrow. I

came too late to do any thing but give my husband
and behold the glorious end. This new task seems to
offer me the chance of being among the pioneers, to
do the hard work, share the persecution, and help lay
the foundation of a new emancipation whose happy
success I may never see. Yet I had rather be remembered
as those brave beginners are, though many of
them missed the triumph, than as the late comers will
be, who only beat the drums and wave the banners
when the victory is won.”

Just then the gate creaked on its hinges, a step
sounded in the porch, and little Ruth ran in to say in
an audible whisper:

“It 's a lady, mamma, a very pretty lady: can you
see her?”

“Yes, dear, ask her in.”

There was a rustle of sweeping silks through the
narrow hall, a vision of a very lovely woman in the
door-way, and two daintily gloved hands were extended
as an eager voice asked: “Dearest Christie, don't you
remember Bella Carrol?”

Christie did remember, and had her in her arms directly,
utterly regardless of the imminent destruction of
a marvellous hat, or the bad effect of tears on violet
ribbons. Presently they were sitting close together,
talking with April faces, and telling their stories as
women must when they meet after the lapse of years.
A few letters had passed between them, but Bella had
been abroad, and Christie too busy living her life to
have much time to write about it.

“Your mother, Bella? how is she, and where?”

“Still with Augustine, and he you know is melancholy

mad: very quiet, very patient, and very kind
to every one but himself. His penances for the sins
of his race would soon kill him if mother was not
there to watch over him. And her penance is never
to leave him.”

“Dear child, don't tell me any more; it is too sad.
Talk of yourself and Harry. Now you smile, so I 'm
sure all is well with him.”

“Yes, thank heaven! Christie, I do believe fate
means to spare us as dear old Dr. Shirley said. I never
can be gay again, but I keep as cheerful and busy as
I can, for Harry's sake, and he does the same for mine.
We shall always be together, and all in all to one
another, for we can never marry and have homes apart
you know. We have wandered over the face of the
earth for several years, and now we mean to settle
down and be as happy and as useful as we can.”

“That 's brave! I am so glad to hear it, and so truly
thankful it is possible. But tell me, Bella, what Harry
means to do? You spoke in one of your first letters
of his being hard at work studying medicine. Is that
to be his profession?”

“Yes; I don't know what made him choose it, unless
it was the hope that he might spare other families from
a curse like ours, or lighten it if it came. After
Helen's death he was a changed creature; no longer a
wild boy, but a man. I told him what you said to me,
and it gave him hope. Dr. Shirley confirmed it as far
as he dared; and Hal resolved to make the most of his
one chance by interesting himself in some absorbing
study, and leaving no room for fear, no time for dangerous
recollections. I was so glad, and mother so comforted,

for we both feared that sad trouble would
destroy him. He studied hard, got on splendidly,
and then went abroad to finish off. I went with him;
for poor August was past hope, and mamma would
not let me help her. The doctor said it was best for
me to be away, and excellent for Hal to have me with
him, to cheer him up, and keep him steady with a
little responsibility. We have been happy together
in spite of our trouble, he in his profession, and I in
him; now he is ready, so we have come home, and
now the hardest part begins for me.”

“How, Bella?”

“He has his work and loves it: I have nothing
after my duty to him is done. I find I 've lost my
taste for the old pleasures and pursuits, and though
I have tried more sober, solid ones, there still remains
much time to hang heavy on my hands, and such an
empty place in my heart, that even Harry's love cannot
fill it. I 'm afraid I shall get melancholy, — that
is the beginning of the end for us, you know.”

As Bella spoke the light died out of her eyes, and
they grew despairing with the gloom of a tragic memory.
Christie drew the beautiful, pathetic face down
upon her bosom, longing to comfort, yet feeling very
powerless to lighten Bella's burden.

But Christie's little daughter did it for her. Ruth
had been standing near regarding the “pretty lady,”
with as much wonder and admiration as if she thought
her a fairy princess, who might vanish before she got a
good look at her. Divining with a child's quick instinct
that the princess was in trouble, Ruth flew into the
porch, caught up her latest and dearest treasure, and

presented it as a sure consolation, with such sweet
good-will, that Bella could not refuse, although it was
only a fuzzy caterpillar in a little box.

“I give it to you because it is my nicest one and just
ready to spin up. Do you like pussy-pillars, and know
how they do it?” asked Ruth, emboldened by the kiss
she got in return for her offering.

“Tell me all about it, darling,” and Bella could not
help smiling, as the child fixed her great eyes upon her,
and told her little story with such earnestness, that she
was breathless by the time she ended.

“At first they are only grubs you know, and stay
down in the earth; then they are like this, nice and
downy and humpy, when they walk; and when it 's
time they spin up and go to sleep. It 's all dark in
their little beds, and they don't know what may happen
to 'em; but they are not afraid 'cause God takes care
of 'em. So they wait and don't fret, and when it 's
right for 'em they come out splendid butterflies, all
beautiful and shining like your gown. They are happy
then, and fly away to eat honey, and live in the air,
and never be creeping worms any more.”

“That 's a pretty lesson for me,” said Bella softly, “I
accept and thank you for it, little teacher; I 'll try to
be a patient `pussy-pillar' though it is dark, and I
don't know what may happen to me; and I 'll wait
hopefully till it 's time to float away a happy butterfly.”

“Go and get the friend some flowers, the gayest
and sweetest you can find, Pansy,” said Christie, and,
as the child ran off, she added to her friend:

“Now we must think of something pleasant for you

to do. It may take a little time, but I know we
shall find your niche if we give our minds to it.”

“That 's one reason why I came. I heard some
friends of mine talking about you yesterday, and they
seemed to think you were equal to any thing in the
way of good works. Charity is the usual refuge for
people like me, so I wish to try it. I don't mind
doing or seeing sad or disagreeable things, if it only
fills up my life and helps me to forget.”

“You will help more by giving of your abundance
to those who know how to dispense it wisely, than by
trying to do it yourself, my dear. I never advise pretty
creatures like you to tuck up their silk gowns and go
down into the sloughs with alms for the poor, who
don't like it any better than you do, and so much pity
and money are wasted in sentimental charity.”

“Then what shall I do?”

“If you choose you can find plenty of work in your
own class; for, if you will allow me to say it, they need
help quite as much as the paupers, though in a very
different way.”

“Oh, you mean I 'm to be strong-minded, to cry
aloud and spare not, to denounce their iniquities, and
demand their money or their lives?”

“Now, Bella, that's personal; for I made my first
speech a night or two ago.”

“I know you did, and I wish I 'd heard it. I 'd make
mine to-night if I could do it half as well as I 'm told
you did,” interrupted Bella, clapping her hands with a
face full of approval.

But Christie was in earnest, and produced her new
project with all speed.

“I want you to try a little experiment for me, and
if it succeeds you shall have all the glory; I 've been
waiting for some one to undertake it, and I fancy you
are the woman. Not every one could attempt it; for it
needs wealth and position, beauty and accomplishments,
much tact, and more than all a heart that has not been
spoilt by the world, but taught through sorrow how to
value and use life well.”

“Christie, what is it? this experiment that needs so
much, and yet which you think me capable of trying?”
asked Bella, interested and flattered by this opening.

“I want you to set a new fashion: you know you
can set almost any you choose in your own circle; for
people are very like sheep, and will follow their leader
if it happens to be one they fancy. I don't ask you to
be a De Staël, and have a brilliant salon: I only want
you to provide employment and pleasure for others
like yourself, who now are dying of frivolity or ennui.”

“I should love to do that if I could. Tell me how.”

“Well, dear, I want you to make Harry's home as
beautiful and attractive as you can; to keep all the
elegance and refinement of former times, and to add to
it a new charm by setting the fashion of common sense.
Invite all the old friends, and as many new ones as you
choose; but have it understood that they are to come
as intelligent men and women, not as pleasure-hunting
beaux and belles; give them conversation instead of
gossip; less food for the body and more for the mind;
the healthy stimulus of the nobler pleasures they can
command, instead of the harmful excitements of present
dissipation. In short, show them the sort of society
we need more of, and might so easily have if those who

possess the means of culture cared for the best sort,
and took pride in acquiring it. Do you understand,
Bella?”

“Yes, but it 's a great undertaking, and you could
do it better than I.”

“Bless you, no! I haven't a single qualification for
it but the will to have it done. I 'm `strong-minded,'
a radical, and a reformer. I 've done all sorts of dreadful
things to get my living, and I have neither youth,
beauty, talent, or position to back me up; so I should
only be politely ignored if I tried the experiment myself.
I don't want you to break out and announce
your purpose with a flourish; or try to reform society
at large, but I do want you to devote yourself and your
advantages to quietly insinuating a better state of
things into one little circle. The very fact of your own
want, your own weariness, proves how much such a reform
is needed. There are so many fine young women
longing for something to fill up the empty places that
come when the first flush of youth is over, and the
serious side of life appears; so many promising young
men learning to conceal or condemn the high ideals
and the noble purposes they started with, because
they find no welcome for them. You might help both
by simply creating a purer atmosphere for them to
breathe, sunshine to foster instead of frost to nip their
good aspirations, and so, even if you planted no seed,
you might encourage a timid sprout or two that would
one day be a lovely flower or a grand tree all would
admire and enjoy.”

As Christie ended with the figure suggested by her
favorite work, Bella said after a thoughtful pause:

“But few of the women I know can talk about any
thing but servants, dress, and gossip. Here and there
one knows something of music, art, or literature; but the
superior ones are not favorites with the larger class of
gentlemen.”

“Then let the superior women cultivate the smaller
class of men who do admire intelligence as well as
beauty. There are plenty of them, and you had better
introduce a few as samples, though their coats may not
be of the finest broadcloth, nor their fathers `solid
men.' Women lead in society, and when men find
that they can not only dress with taste, but talk with
sense, the lords of creation will be glad to drop mere
twaddle and converse as with their equals. Bless
my heart!” cried Christie, walking about the room
as if she had mounted her hobby, and was off for
a canter, “how people can go on in such an idiotic
fashion passes my understanding. Why keep up an
endless clatter about gowns and dinners, your neighbors'
affairs, and your own aches, when there is a world
full of grand questions to settle, lovely things to see,
wise things to study, and noble things to imitate.
Bella, you must try the experiment, and be the queen
of a better society than any you can reign over now.”

“It looks inviting, and I will try it with you to help
me. I know Harry would like it, and I 'll get him to
recommend it to his patients. If he is as successful
here as elsewhere they will swallow any dose he orders;
for he knows how to manage people wonderfully well.
He prescribed a silk dress to a despondent, dowdy
patient once, telling her the electricity of silk was
good for her nerves: she obeyed, and when well

dressed felt so much better that she bestirred herself
generally and recovered; but to this day she sings the
praises of Dr. Carrol's electric cure.”

Bella was laughing gaily as she spoke, and so was
Christie as she replied:

“That's just what I want you to do with your
patients. Dress up their minds in their best; get them
out into the air; and cure their ills by the magnetism
of more active, earnest lives.”

They talked over the new plan with increasing interest;
for Christie did not mean that Bella should be
one of the brilliant women who shine for a little while,
and then go out like a firework. And Bella felt as if
she had found something to do in her own sphere, a
sort of charity she was fitted for, and with it a pleasant
sense of power to give it zest.

When Letty and her mother came in, they found a
much happier looking guest than the one Christie had
welcomed an hour before. Scarcely had she introduced
them when voices in the lane made all look up to see
old Hepsey and Mrs. Wilkins approaching.

“Two more of my dear friends, Bella: a fugitive slave
and a laundress. One has saved scores of her own people,
and is my pet heroine. The other has the bravest,
cheeriest soul I know, and is my private oracle.”

The words were hardly out of Christie's mouth
when in they came; Hepsey's black face shining with
affection, and Mrs. Wilkins as usual running over with
kind words.

“My dear creeter, the best of wishes and no end of
happy birthdays. There 's a triflin' keepsake; tuck it
away, and look at it byme by. Mis' Sterlin', I 'm

proper glad to see you lookin' so well. Aunt Letty,
how 's that darlin' child? I ain't the pleasure of
your acquaintance, Miss, but I 'm pleased to see you.
The children all sent love, likewise Lisha, whose bones
is better sense I tried the camfire and red flannel.”

Then they settled down like a flock of birds of various
plumage and power of song, but all amicably disposed,
and ready to peck socially at any topic which
might turn up.

Mrs. Wilkins started one by exclaiming as she “laid
off” her bonnet:

“Sakes alive, there 's a new picter! Ain't it beautiful?”

“Colonel Fletcher brought it this morning. A great
artist painted it for him, and he gave it to me in a way
that added much to its value,” answered Christie, with
both gratitude and affection in her face; for she was a
woman who could change a lover to a friend, and keep
him all her life.

It was a quaint and lovely picture of Mr. Greatheart,
leading the fugitives from the City of Destruction. A
dark wood lay behind; a wide river rolled before;
Mercy and Christiana pressed close to their faithful
guide, who went down the rough and narrow path bearing
a cross-hilted sword in his right hand, and holding
a sleeping baby with the left. The sun was just rising,
and a long ray made a bright path athwart the river,
turned Greatheart's dinted armor to gold, and shone
into the brave and tender face that seemed to look
beyond the sunrise.

“There 's just a hint of Davy in it that is very comforting
to me,” said Mrs. Sterling, as she laid her old

hands softly together, and looked up with her devout
eyes full of love.

“Dem women oughter bin black,” murmured Hepsey,
tearfully; for she considered David worthy of a place
with old John Brown and Colonel Shaw.

“The child looks like Pansy, we all think,” added
Letty, as the little girl brought her nosegay for Aunty
to tie up prettily.

Christie said nothing, because she felt too much; and
Bella was also silent because she knew too little. But
Mrs. Wilkins with her kindly tact changed the subject
before it grew painful, and asked with sudden interest:

“When be you a goin' to hold forth agin, Christie?
Jest let me know beforehand, and I 'll wear my old
gloves: I tore my best ones all to rags clappin' of you;
it was so extra good.”

“I don't deserve any credit for the speech, because
it spoke itself, and I couldn't help it. I had no thought
of such a thing till it came over me all at once, and I
was up before I knew it. I 'm truly glad you liked it,
but I shall never make another, unless you think I 'd
better. You know I always ask your advice, and what
is more remarkable usually take it,” said Christie, glad
to consult her oracle.

“Hadn't you better rest a little before you begin any
new task, my daughter? You have done so much
these last years you must be tired,” interrupted Mrs.
Sterling, with a look of tender anxiety.

“You know I work for two, mother,” answered Christie,
with the clear, sweet expression her face always
wore when she spoke of David. “I am not tired yet:
I hope I never shall be, for without my work I should

fall into despair or ennui. There is so much to be done,
and it is so delightful to help do it, that I never mean
to fold my hands till they are useless. I owe all I can
do, for in labor, and the efforts and experiences that
grew out of it, I have found independence, education,
happiness, and religion.”

“Then, my dear, you are ready to help other folks
into the same blessed state, and it 's your duty to do
it!” cried Mrs. Wilkins, her keen eyes full of sympathy
and commendation as they rested on Christie's cheerful,
earnest face. “Ef the sperrit moves you to speak, up
and do it without no misgivin's. I think it was a special
leadin' that night, and I hope you 'll foller, for it ain't
every one that can make folks laugh and cry with a
few plain words that go right to a body's heart and stop
there real comfortable and fillin'. I guess this is your
next job, my dear, and you 'd better ketch hold and
give it the right turn; for it 's goin' to take time, and
women ain't stood alone for so long they 'll need a sight
of boostin'.”

There was a general laugh at the close of Mrs. Wilkins's
remarks; but Christie answered seriously: “I accept
the task, and will do my share faithfully with
words or work, as shall seem best. We all need much
preparation for the good time that is coming to us, and
can get it best by trying to know and help, love and
educate one another, — as we do here.”

With an impulsive gesture Christie stretched her
hands to the friends about her, and with one accord
they laid theirs on hers, a loving league of sisters,
old and young, black and white, rich and poor, each
ready to do her part to hasten the coming of the happy
end.

“Me too!” cried little Ruth, and spread her chubby
hand above the rest: a hopeful omen, seeming to
promise that the coming generation of women will not
only receive but deserve their liberty, by learning that
the greatest of God's gifts to us is the privilege of
sharing His great work.