University of Virginia Library

23. CHAPTER XXIII.
MRS. SMITH BECOMES A CHRISTIAN.

Mr. Hopp had waited from day to day for
signs of distress to appear at the Shaw family
mansion. He had driven past the house every
morning, expecting to see the red flag that so
often signals a change of residence.

But the signals did not appear; the red flag
did not flutter in the morning breeze. Everything
seemed seren. The little engrossed bill-beads,,
on which were written the ominous
words, “Reuben Shaw, Dr., etc., etc.,”
were less numerous than formerly. In time they
disappeared entirely. The Shaw Family had no
debts. The Shaw family might have no income,
but they lived handsomely, and owed nobody..
Mr. Hopp was mystified, He admitted that Mr
Gray had succeeded better than he anticipated,
but this success was but remotely connected

with the prosperity of the Shaw family. His
code of morals did not comprehend the terms
of copartnership by which the family of a deceased
partner were entitled to a share in the
profits of a firm, the chief of which was dead.
If Mr. Gray assumed the debts, nothing more
could be required of him.

In time Mr. Hopps came to the conclusion
that Mr. Gray was a suitor for Miss Shaw's
hand. There was nothing to warrant the conclusion
except the presumption that they derived their in
come from him. Mr. Gray did not mingle in society,
and was never seen in attendance on Miss Shaw, His
calls at the house were few and brief.

Mr. Hopps was mystified. The subject engrossed
his thoughts to the detriment of business. He was a
man who had never failed to accomplish a business on
which he had set his mind. He was thirty-eight
years of age, and had never failed in his life. Now, at
this mature age, with wealth and position at his back,
he had set his heart on this penniless girl of eighteen
and the way to success was not open.

Mrs. Smith failed to fulfill her threat of going to
church next Sunday. By chance she became one of
Dr. Fox's fashionable congregation. It was a good
church to be seen at. Only the world's elect could afford
to attend. Dr. Fox was a smooth, easy, florid
speaker. As a rule he made things pretty easy for his
congregation. Religion was not austere nor self-denying.
It was essential to salvation, but its profession
entailed no duties that a good citizen did not
owe to the world. People might profess religion and
yet make and enjoy money. He required no one to
sell his goods and give the proceeds to the poor. Dr.
Fox never preached from such old-fashioned texts.
He had goods himself. He bought and sold, and put
the profits in the bank. He lived luxuriously, kept
fast horses, entertained handsomely—in a word, enjoyed
life like any other gentleman of means and cultivated
tastes. Dr. Fox's sermon convinced Mrs.
Smith of the propriety of joining his church. Hitherto
she had rather neglected religion. A slight exercise
of memory recalled a period in her life when the observation
even of the easy rules laid down by Dr. Fox
would have been inconvenient. But her future was
brighter. She had determined to follow Mr. Hopps's
advice, and pursue her ends through means that
were lawful. It was safer, and, perhaps, after all,
surer. It was certainly more respectable, and the
lady was suddenly seized with a longing to be respectable.

This longing had perhaps the charm of novelty, but
it was not the less agreeable in consequence. She
was a woman for whom life had few surprises in
store, and this new desire came just in time. It gave
her something to think of, something to do. Old associations
must be broken, new ones formed. She
would act henceforth on a different plan.

Reginia was more self-reliant. Her love for
her father was of that character which could not
recognize defects in the object loved. Her
father was the noblest, best, and most honorable
gentleman in Christendom. She had only seen
the bright side of his character. He had been
the kindest and most indulgent of fathers. She
could not recall a cross word or a severe reprimand.

Miss Shaw's grief did not deprive her of her senses.
She knew that she was poor—she realized that her old
life was ended. Her place in society must be given up.
The great question now was, how to live comfortably.

But days passed, and the change she anticipated,
and to which she was resigned, did not take place.
Everything went on as before, No hard-hearted landlord
came to inquire about rent—no bills were left at
her door. The servants received their monthly wages
and were as obedient to her command as ever.

But this could not last. She waited for the change
to offer itself, because she had not been in the habit
of directing affairs herself, and she thought it would
come when it must.

Mr. Gray called occasionally, but avoided business
topics. Once when she intimated that she would like
to consult with him in regard to some plan for the
future, he replied that she need not trouble herself to
form plans at present. If the necessity ever came he
would let her know,

“But Mr. Gray,” she remonstrated; “you know
this cannot last.”

“I do not know if it can,” he replied, “but if it
cannot I shall soon know.”

Mr. Gray answered truly; he did not know. It was
impossible to tell to what extent the death of Mr. Shaw
would affect the business of the firm. He himself
had little reputation. He had had little experience.
Great lawyers are not born; they make themselves.
Mr. Gray was not a genius, but he had a clear, acute
mind, a cool temperament, and great force of character.
His success thus far might justly be ascribed to
Mr. Shaw's directing intelligence. It was impossible
to tell how far he could be trusted alone.

But two or three eminent lawyers—friends of Mr.
Shaw—stood by him like men. They offered their
service in the conduct of some important cases, and
advised him freely at all times, even to the neglect of
their own practice. They sent him clients and spoke
of him as the rising man of the day.

Owing, perhaps, to their representations, Mr. Gray's
first appearance in court in charge of a civil case of
some moment attracted general attention. Aware of
its importance to himself, and those depending upon
him, he bestowed upon it unusual care, consulted
freely with the best legal minds in the city, and went
into court letter perfect in his part. His cool temperament
was an element in his favor. The hush of a
crowded court-room did not awe him in the least. The
consciousness that veterans in the profession were listening
to his argument did not inspire dread, as minds
of equal calibre and experience had assisted him to
make his position impregnable. In his speech he avoided
dramatic effects, but aimed at conciseness of style,
solidity rather that show. In these respects, for a
young lawyer, the speech was remarkable. If it inspired
spectators less favorably, it secured the favor of
the court and veteran practitioners. He won the case
as he had fully expected, since he had by far the
strongest side, but he won something more—position
in his profession. He returned that night as secure of
the future as if his fortune had been in United States
bonds. Nothing but neglect of business or abuse of
his own powers could prevent his success.

For some weeks Mrs. Smith was a regular attendant
at Dr. Fox's church. She secured a seat in a conspicuous
pew, where she could hardly fail to catch
the preacher's eye. She did catch his eye. An occult
intelligence seemed to exist between them. From
the time be first met her soft, upturned gaze, her
pensive and beautiful countenance suffused with a
holy rapture, he preached to her rather than to his
congregation. The appreciation he read in her face
was sweet to his soul. He beheld a new worshiper, a
woman of evident intelligence, ardent, sympathetic,
and admiring. Who could she be?

The question was solved. Mrs. Smith called upon
the pastor at the right time. His interest was aroused,
his curiosity excited. He received her with the warm
cordiality which distinguished his manner. He gently
pressed her exquisitely-gloved hand, assisted her to
a seat, and thanked her for the honor of her call.

Mrs. Smith affected a charming modesty. She had
ventured to call after much hesitation, painfully impressed
with a sense of her unworthiness, but impelled
by a newly-awakenad con-ciousness of the peril
she was in. She had lived a worldly life, but it had
pleased God to give her time for repentance. She alluded
in graceful terms to the passages in his sermons
which had particularly impressed her, and to
other passages which had inspired her with courage to
seek a private interview with him who had been God's
chosen agent in her soul's salvation.

Dr. Fox replied in a manner to remove her fears.
He could not imagine his visitor a sinner, except in
the general sense which included all mankind. But
it was one of the beauties of the Gospel that it offered
free pardon to sinners who repent. It was never too
late, and never too early. The awakening of the soul
should never be resisted. Happy were they who
were called in the springtime of youth, when the
charms of the world were still sweet and fresh. Such
were the chosen of God. A suspicion might attach to
those who waited until old age and decrepitude robbed
life of its attractions, but to those who sought Jesus
in their youth and beauty there was awaiting a double
reward.

Mrs. Smith listened with half-concealed rapture. A
weight seemed lifted from her mind. The brilliancy
of her eyes was vailed in grateful tears. A rosy grow
overspread her usually pale face. She leaned toward
her beloved pastor, and seemed to drink in his very
words. In the nervous transport that seized her, her
warm hands came in contact with his. They were
held in a fatherly grasp. He called her his child.
He soothed her perturbed mind with gentle and consoling
words. He took it upon himself to assure her
of forgiveness for whatever errors she might have
committed. Let her confide in him. The confidence
would be held sacred.

Then Mrs. Smith told a story of her life. She had
been married when a mere child to a man much older
than herself. She had never loved this man. She had
tried, however, to perform a wife's duty. A child
had been born which had filled the void in her heart.
O! how she had loved that child! But this happiness
was denied her. Her husband was dissolute, profane,
and brutal. She had not then given heed to the
beautiful injunction of the marriage ceremony. This
was one of the sins she had to answer for. Poor,
friendless, unable to support the child, she had consented
that it should remain with her husband. Her
life since had been checkered. Necessity had compelled
her to adopt pursuits repugnant to her nature.
She had lived, however, without great sin until she
heard of the death of her husband. Her heart
prompted her to fly to her orphan child. She found
to her surprise that her husband had died rich, that
her daughter was an heiress. But here came the
cruelest blow of all. Her daughter refused to believe
that she was her mother. The child had been badly
trained, and had evil counselors, but it was a terrible
blow for a mother to bear.

Dr. Fox was much affected.

“May I ask,” he said, “if your daughter is with
you now?”

“O, no. If she was—if I had her with me—I
would win her love. But the evil counselors of whom
I spoke have enticed her away.”

“But surely the law will give you possession of your
child.”

“The law!—the cruel law! It is the law that has
taken her from me. You, my only friend, may have
seen the child. You may have heard the other side of
the story.”

“What is your daughter's name?”

“Melissa Smith.”

Dr. Fox looked surprised. He had seen the child.
He had heard the other side of the case. He had
formed a very different idea of the mother from that
he had formed of his visitor.

“It is your daughter, then, who lives in the family
of Mrs. Shaw?”

“Alas, yes.”

“Mrs. Shaw is a most estimable lady. She will
sanction nothing that is wrong. Has she heard your
story?”

“How can I approach her? Her husband was my
daughter's counselor. Her husband's partner is
the man who enticed my daughter from her home.”

“Enticed her from her home! You do not mean,
my dear madam, that Mr. Shaw's partner exercised
an improper influence over the child?”

“I mean that she was living with me contentedly,
and, as I thought, it, happily. One day she disappeared.
I caused a search to be made for her, and ascertained
to my grief and shame that she was living under Mr.
Gray's protection.”

“But, madam, she is yet a child. You don't
mean—”

“I desire not to be uncharitable. I once believed
Mr. Gray to be the soul of honor. He was kind to
Mliss when she had no one else to be kind to her.
She is of an ardent nature, and loves or hates with
her whole soul. She worships Mr. Gray. She would
follow him to the grave or to shame.”

“But it seems to me that Mr. Gray has acted very
honorably. He placed her with a family that is beyond
reproach.”

Mrs. Smith smiled. She inclined to the worthy
clergyman, and unconsciously, perhaps, laid her hand
in his.

“Mr. Gray,” she said, “is a rising young man.
He has talent and is ambitious. Do you suppose he
would sacrifice his prospects in life by openly committing

an act that would excite the horror even of
his wordly associates?”

Dr. Fox wiped the perspiration from his brow. The
affair began to appear in a new light. Mrs. Smith's
suspicious might prove correct. Mliss had not impressed
him favorably. She had not paid that respect
to his opinions that other young girls paid. She had
questioned him in regard to matters that others take
for granted, and argued like a lawyer. She was willful,
irreverent, and impertinent.

“It is your opinion, then,” he said, “that Mrs.
Shaw is misled in regard to the relations existing between
Mr. Gray and his ward?”

“O, certainly. Mrs. Shaw is too good to be suspicious.
She could not suspect such business. And
then Mr. Gray has been of great service to the
family.”

“I must inquire into this,” replied Dr. Fox. “The
hospitality of my friend, Mrs. Shaw, must not be
abused.”

“O, if you will!” exclaimed the lady. “A word from
you will do so much. I am a stranger to you, and I
cannot expect my statement to be taken with the implicit
confidence you might give it if we were better
acquainted. But if you will question my daughter or
Mr. Gray, you will discover something which will enable
a man of your discernment to form a correct conclusion.”

“Doubtless, madam; but don't regard yourself as
a stranger to me. It is one of the greatest pleasures
of my profession to regard all as friends who come in
the name of Jesus.”

“Heaven sent me to you, I am sure,” murmured
the lady. “Your friendship fills my heart with gladness.
But I have already detained you too long.
Your time is not your own.”

“I shall always be happy to see you, Mrs. Smith.
Call if you can in three days and I may have news
from your daughter.”

Mrs. Smith returned to the Lick House where she
now resided. She was pleased with her afternoon's
work. Her experienced eye measured Dr. Fox at a
glance. Not a bad man, but vain, shallow, self-conceited
and sensual, following his profession rather for
the opportunities it afforded than from any desire to
benefit the human family. His vanity she could play
upon, his self-conceit she could humor, while his
temperament exposed him to the blandishments of the
first beautiful and unscrupulous woman he might
meet. Throned as she knew him to be in the Shaw
family, he was a powerful ally.

“Ah, Mr. Gray,” she said to herself, “you did me
but half justice when you taunted me with having
one man at my service. I have two.”