Out trotted neighbor Miller, and that was the end
of confidences in the porch; but David played melodiously
on his flute that night, and Christie fell asleep
saying happily to herself:
“Now we are all right, friends for ever, and
every thing will go beautifully.”
Waking up.
Every thing did “go beautifully”
for a time; so much so, that Christie began to think
she really had “got religion.” A delightful
peace pervaded her soul, a new interest made the dullest
task agreeable, and life grew so inexpressibly sweet
that she felt as if she could forgive all her enemies,
love her friends more than ever, and do any thing
great, good, or glorious.
She had known such moods before, but they had never
lasted long, and were not so intense as this; therefore,
she was sure some blessed power had come to uphold
and cheer her. She sang like a lark as she swept
and dusted; thought high and happy thoughts among the
pots and kettles, and, when she sat sewing, smiled
unconsciously as if some deep satisfaction made sunshine
from within. Heart and soul seemed to wake up
and rejoice as naturally and beautifully as flowers
in the spring. A soft brightness shone in her
eyes, a fuller tone sounded in her voice, and her
face grew young and blooming with the happiness that
transfigures all it touches.
“Christie ’s growing handsome,”
David would say to his mother, as if she was a flower
in which he took pride.
“Thee is a good gardener, Davy,” the old
lady would reply, and when he was busy would watch
him with a tender sort of anxiety, as if to discover
a like change in him.
But no alteration appeared, except more cheerfulness
and less silence; for now there was no need to hide
his real self, and all the social virtues in him came
out delightfully after their long solitude.
In her present uplifted state, Christie could no more
help regarding David as a martyr and admiring him
for it, than she could help mixing sentiment with
her sympathy. By the light of the late confessions,
his life and character looked very different to her
now. His apparent contentment was resignation;
his cheerfulness, a manly contempt for complaint;
his reserve, the modest reticence of one who, having
done a hard duty well, desires no praise for it.
Like all enthusiastic persons, Christie had a hearty
admiration for self-sacrifice and self-control; and,
while she learned to see David’s virtues, she
also exaggerated them, and could not do enough to
show the daily increasing esteem and respect she felt
for him, and to atone for the injustice she once did
him.
She grubbed in the garden and green-house, and learned
hard botanical names that she might be able to talk
intelligently upon subjects that interested her comrade.
Then, as autumn ended out-of-door work, she tried
to make home more comfortable and attractive than
ever.
