MISCELLANY.

For the Unionist.

FORGIVENESS.

A TALE.

_ _ _

“To err, is human—to forgive, divine.”

_ _ _

Concluded.

Various were the conjectures concerning the cause of her sudden disappearance, and when at last they ventured to question Matilda, she replied with a great many signs and a few hypocritical tears, that her father had placed her under the care of his sister-in-law, the widow of an eminent physician, thinking her experience and virtuous example might be of service to Emily, that she was grieved for the cause, and wished not to be question on the subject. Thus, by her false insinuations, she deprived her of the esteem of the world—that world which will one day worship and the next stab you. Not contented with this, she persuaded Mr. Minnette to disinherit his daughter, and make a will in favor of the little George, but her cruelty was not to go unpunished. By some unforeseen losses in trade Mr. Minnette became bankrupt, and was obliged to sell his splendid establishment in —— street, and remove to a small house which belonged to Emily’s mother, and which was the only property he could not be deprived of. But to return to Emily.

The picture of former days would sometimes rise, and appear like a fairy dream, from which she had been too soon awakened. She thought of the kind mother who had been ever ready to gratify her childish wishes—and of Edward, too, she thought much. Would he believe his sister’s falsehoods? was a question that often perplexed her. And were there no mingling of resentment in these recollections? Not any. Her heart had been taught a better discipline.

Two years passed away, and Emily found peace, if not happiness. She was now twenty-one years old, and it was in her power to retaliate her injuries, by turning her father out of her house, which was now in her possession; but instead of this she wrote a long and kind letter, entreating him to occupy it as long as he wished.

Having but little to engage her attention, Emily offered to teach a school for the children of the village. For this purpose, a room was fitted up in a small light building, erected near the river for the convenience of washing. During her residence with her kind aunt, it had been her favorite care to ornament and improve it. She had planted all around it the rose of cassia, jessamine, honeysuckle and grape vines. Their mingled blossoms and intertwining branches formed a luxuriant drapery, which soon became one mass of living verdure. From this little nest of flowers, an avenue, shaded by old elms, led down to the river, whose smooth surface was broken into ripples by the dipping branches of the weeping willow, as its waters went sparkling and gleaming along in their noiseless beauty. Here, in pleasant weather, Emily often ranged her scholars, in the open air; and then there were bright eyes and happy faces, for children do not love the confinement of a school room. The exercises of the day were generally concluded with a hymn and prayer, in which all were taught to join.

It was near the close of a delightful day in June, and their melodious voices were just breaking the stillness of that beautiful solitude, when a gentleman, attracted by the sound, came to the opposite bank, and, concealed by the shade, listened with intense delight to the infant warblers.

The last note died away, and a solemn pause ensued. “Now, my dear little children,” said Emily, “will you join me, with your whole hearts, in a prayer to our Heavenly Father who has watched over and protected us through the day.” She then kneeled down on the green earth, and was soon encircled by her cherub band of scholars, who also knelt and softly repeated, after their youthful instructress, The Lord’s Prayer. Then came the fervent “amen”—“Amen!” repeated their innocent lips, and “Amen!” echoed the green hills. Then, slowly, they all arose, kissed Emily, one by one, crossed the little bridge, and disappeared.

But the stranger yet remained. It was Edward Brumiere, once the friend of Emily—and if he had ever doubted her, could he any longer question the goodness and purity of the beautiful being before him? It was impossible. A moment, and he was at her side. Surprise deepened the rose on her cheek, and she confessed the pleasure she felt in again meeting him. She extended her hand to him with a cordial smile, for she had not yet learned to hide her feelings under the mask of indifference.

“I come from your father, my dear Emily. He is not very well, and feels the want of your kindness and good nursing.”

“But where is my ———mother?” she enquired, hesitatingly. “She is obliged to divide her attentions between him and your little brother, who has been sometime ill, of a lingering complaint, which they fear will terminate in a consumption. But are you quite willing to forget your resentment?” “I have none.” “Your injuries then?” “I freely forgive them as I hope to be forgiven.”

“Do you know their extent? Driven from your home, calumniated, disinherited, by one who pledged herself your friend.”

While enumerating these, he closely watched her countenance, and finding there no expression but forgiving love, he continued, “or do you not feel their force?” An unbidden tear fell down her cheek, silently refuting the charge of insensibility.

Love sprung in his heart spontaneous; and tenderly taking her hand, he said with much emotion, “Amiable girl!—have you no connection with earth, that you have divested yourself of human passions and frailties.”

“Afflictions have been sanctified to me, and have taught me that hatred and happiness cannot exist in the same bosom.”

“Matilda is my sister; forgive me, Emily! I believed what she said of you! I could almost hate her for your sake, had you not given me a better example.”

“It is perfectly natural to believe the assertions of those we love; but I hope my study may be to contradict the tongue of slander by my conduct. Anger so blinds our reason, that Matilda might imagine me the unkind, guilty creature she represents me." Thus saying, she led the way to the house, where she introduced Edward to her aunt.

The next morning found them at Mr. Minnette’s door.

Edward remained in the parlor, that he might put no restraint upon the feelings of either party, while Emily was shown to her father’s room. She clung round his neck—he embraced her, and she once more felt happy in his returning love.

The open door of an adjoining room discovered Matilda, bending over the bed of her sick child, with all a mother’s fondness in her looks. In her deep anxiety the predominant expression of unbending pride was lost; and instead, there seemed something like repentance, nay, even kindness as her eye rested on Emily.

From this time, Emily divided her cares between her father and brother, and determined by her attentions to merit the love of her family. Perhaps she was more condescending than some, yet none thought her mean-spirited, or weak, or respected her the less; but all admired the forgiving spirit she displayed.

Mr. Minnette soon recovered, which gave some reason to suspect that his disorder originated in remorse; and now, Emily transferred all her attentions to her suffering brother. She had, while with her aunt (who was the medical adviser of the whole village) acquired considerable knowledge of roots and herbs, and these she successfully employed in his recovery.

Every day she carried the sufferer out of doors in her arms for the benefit of exercise and fresh air, of which Matilda, by a mistake in the art of nursing, had deprived him. He soon felt the good effect of the change, and the delighted mother saw once more the glow of health upon his cheek, and returning activity in his tiny limbs.

Matilda’s haughty spirit had been broken down by adversity, and Emily’s conduct had shamed “the offending spirit” out of her. Her understanding was naturally good, but it had been perverted by a faulty education, dictated by an injudiciously fond parent. A train of concurring circumstances roused her better feelings and they triumphed over the errors of education and the habitual follies of many years! and she bent before the altar of her God, a repentant woman and a humble and sincere christian. And now, from being the most wretched, they became, proverbially, the most united and happy family in New-York. Having performed her duties at home, Emily, according to promise, returned to her aunt, accompanied by Edward, who by the consent of all parties had become her betrothed husband.

“Let us be married, Emily,” said he, “on the anniversary of the river scene; then I shall unite in one the two most interesting events of my life, my marriage and the event which led to it.”

A year from that day, Emily became the wife of Edward—and each succeeding one finds her in the midst of love and happiness surrounded by her family of little ones, to whom Edward annually repeats the Tale of Forgiveness.