SCENES IN A PASTOR'S LIFE. BY REV. SIMON ANDREW. No. III. WHOM THE LORD LOVETH HE CHASTENETH. IT is a fact, well confirmed by observation, that a guilty conscience leads the transgressor to "do penance" by virtuous deeds, which, to say the least, are greatly exaggerated. Thus the warrior in the age of chivalry, guilty of sin against the church at home, was found in the Holy Land clad in sackcloth, and fighting to the death against the infidel. The Spanish papist, guilty of every possible enormity against humanity, multiplies his gifts to the church, and in Mexico and Peru erects lasting monuments of his own repentance. Human nature is alike. We do a wrong for which conscience plies us with her iron goad, and forthwith we seek to repair the wrong by some extraordinary goodness. I have spoken of Mr. W. who, in a moment of passion, had ruined a confiding girl who had given him all her heart. The deed haunted him like conscience, and pursued him like his own shadow. Justice had marked him a victim, and with the keen scent of a bloodhound had pursued him amid all his hiding-places. His victim had perished, and he himself soon followed her, a heart-broken man. In an evil hour the frightful truth is revealed to the accomplished daughter of their crime, and she, pure-hearted and guileless, sinks like one pierced to the heart with a dagger. "Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" We might suppose the evil would at length spend itself, but facts prove sin to be a centre with ever-widening circles. It is a beginning the end of which none but the All-wise knows. I have spoken of Anne as the only daughter and child of Mr. W.'s marriage. A guilty conscience produced in him a singular tenderness to his child. He thought of another, whom he had fled, and he would make atonement for that unnatural cruelty by a sort of He exaggerated tenderness to his Anne. could not endure to have her fretted or crossed or chastised, for any conduct, however perverse. And so she grew, beautiful as a rosebud just opening, and yet capricious as a day of showers in April. She was not malicious nor sullen. To be so requires enough of restraint to make the subject of it angry without subduing him. But she was wayward and selfish, not so much because she was naturally more inclined that way than others, as because she had not known any restraint whatever. She was a willful, laughing, giddy beauty, who cared for no one, except so far as they ministered to her pleasures. Her education was superficial, because she refused to be taught, and yet her lively and retentive mind caught enough from more learned associates to make her extremely agreeable as a companion. In but one accomplishment was she a proficient. In music she made acquirements which were enviable. Here she had perseverance which would hold her at the piano for hours, to secure facility in some difficult movement, or brilliancy in some splendid production of the masters. All admired and applauded the exquisite performances of the beautiful Anne, and her vanity in turn sometimes was too much excited to be consistent with perfect refinement. That such a young lady, the heiress to a large fortune, should be sought after, was not strange. Many were her admirers, and yet with them she was capricious as in all other things. To some gay admirer proposing to make her his own, she would toss a sprig of heart's-ease, accompanied with as merry a laugh as ever sounded despair in the ear of an unsuccessful lover. Sometimes she was afflicted with a disconsolate wight, of long 290 SCENES IN A PASTOR'S LIFE. visage and saddened mien, whose sighs could not be repressed, as she told him "No" to his importunity, and then with a tragic air she would seat herself at the piano, and sing like an unmated dove "The last link is broken that bound me to thee," until, unable to repress her malicious merriment, she would laugh till she cried. Another, whom her quick perceptions showed to be avaricious, would be listened to with gravity becoming a judge. "How much would he give her a year for jewels? For her part she could not and would not put up with less than five hundred dollars a year for that one purpose! And how much for silks, and brocades, and laces? With shawls and hats, etc., etc., she would need another five hundred--that she would! And her husband must give it to her out of his own property. As for what little her father had left her, she did not mean to let any husband of hers ever touch a cent of it! Let him make his own money!" And so she would rattle away, until her avaricious lover wished his proposal back safe down his own unfortunate throat. What could he do with such a lavish minx? And then he started for the door, but she detained him: "Mr. Gripe hadn't got his answer yet;" and he by this time wished her and hers "in Guinea." But at last she relcased him, fully satisfied, if one might judge from the long breath he drew as the door closed behind him. And she could not have been less pleased, if her peals of laughter were any indication to her feelings. And thus it fared with all her lovers. Her heart was untouched, if indeed her enormous selfishness had left her any heart. Strip that merry, rich, heartless beauty of those things so bewildering to most, and which do not enter into that loveliest of created things, woman, and what was there to love or to be loved? And yet among her admirers one was found who truly loved her, or rather he loved her as he supposed her to be. In person he was noble, and his manners were such as to make him a model man. He was in very moderate circumstances so far as concerned property, and yet had enough to keep up appearances. If his education was not perfect in other respects, as a musician he was a master, and often were the visitants at the widow's house held in charmed attention as his voice blended with Anne's in some stirring song. She loved music so well, that, vain as she was, she submitted to his discriminating criticisms, and by them perfected herself in her darling accomplishment. They were two devotees to music, and yet the event proved her to be too selfish to love deeply; whilst his heart was alive with generous feelings, albeit his education had led him to adopt some principles at variance with sound morals. He loved Anne, but had never breathed to her a syllable indicative of his feelings. He feared to do it, but accident opened the way. He was perfect master of the guitar, and the use of this instrument she desired greatly to acquire. But she had never found such a teacher as she wished, and, on her expressing her regrets to her musical friend, he generously offered to assist her. Without hesitation she accepted his offer, and then for months they were together as pupil and teacher, until at last he ventured to offer her his hand. By this time she fancied that his attachment was reciprocated by herself, and contrary to her former actions she pledged herself to him, and in due time they were married. The object of this chapter is not to enter into the details of sickly sentimentalism, but to unfold a leaf of human life which it may be profitable to read attentively. Let me hurry by the happy interval between their betrothal and their nuptials, and the envy which this brilliant match excited in some minds. To all appearance nothing was wanting to make these twain, now one, the happiest in the world. But what dependence may one place in capricious selfishness, especially when it belongs to a beautiful woman? Only a few weeks passed before her feelings changed, and she loathed the man she had vowed at the altar to love. He could not come into her presence without receiving some expression of her disgust, by word or action. Sometimes, under the unwonted restraint with which she felt herself trammeled in her new relation, she would maintain a sullen silence which for days would be unbroken, save by spiteful monosyllables. The husband was surprised, and sometimes doubted whether she had not become crazy. His nature was too noble to harbor revenge, and too forgiving not to use all means to soften her cruelty into love. At one time he would leave his counting-room for an afternoon and suddenly interrupt her tears with a |