Mamie's Watchword Read online

  XI.

  _REPENTANCE._

  THERE might have been some danger that Mamie would feel herself toomuch of a heroine, and forget that all this had been brought about byher own sad disobedience and naughtiness, but for the trouble whichfollowed.

  Strange to say, neither of the children suffered much from the exposureand excitement of the evening; and, beyond a little paleness andlanguor, seemed as well as usual the next day.

  But it was far different with their mother. Not very strong at anytime, the agony and suspense about her little ones had proved too muchfor her, and she was very ill; so ill that Mr. Stone was telegraphedfor, and for some hours it was believed she could not live. She wasquite wild, too; and, though she called and pleaded incessantly forher children, she did not know them when they were brought to her, butthrust them away from her in a way that frightened little Lulu, andquite broke poor repentant Mamie's heart. Oh! was her tender, indulgentmother going to leave her? Would she never know her, never speak to heragain, never tell her she forgave all her disobedient, naughty ways,all her disrespect and pettishness?

  She sat all day, just outside of her mamma's room, listening to everysound from within, crying bitterly, but silently, and utterly refusingto be comforted or coaxed away.

  But at night there was a little change for the better; Mrs. Stone fellinto a quiet sleep, and the doctor said he had hope for her now.

  So Mamie, utterly worn out, suffered herself to be led away by some ofthe pitying ladies, and to be put to bed, where she forgot her troublesuntil the morning.

  She had dreaded facing her father when he should come and hear all thesad story; but she was awakened by his kiss; and, though he lookedvery sober when she poured forth her confession, and offered to submitpatiently to any punishment he might think proper, he told her hethought she had brought punishment enough upon herself, and that hehoped this would be a lasting lesson to her.

  Mamie thought that it would indeed; she should never forget thatterrible night upon the sea, alone with Lulu, who was rather a silentreproach than a comfort to her. She could not believe, poor child! thatthe night had not been half gone when she was brought home, or that itwas hardly an hour after dark when the fisherman had found her, andbrought her to land.

  She was curious to know, as perhaps you may be, how her youngplaymates and their parents happened to be at the light-house "in themiddle of the night;" and this was soon satisfactorily explained to her.

  It was in this way.

  The whole party had driven that afternoon to the house of a friendwhose beautiful place was situated some distance from the shore; andthey had there taken tea, and spent the earlier part of the evening, sothat they had known nothing of the alarm about the lost children.

  Their way home lay near the old "Point Light;" for this was not thelight-house which Mamie saw each evening from the piazza of the hotel,but another, in quite a different direction, though much nearer home;and Lily and the other children, who were wild to see the light-houseat night while its revolving lamp was burning, had persuaded theirparents to indulge them, late as it was, with a visit there. Theyhad been up to the very top, seen all that was to be seen, had thescreeching fog-whistle blown many times for their benefit, and hadcome down to be astonished by the sight which met them below.

  All this, and much more, Belle and Lily poured into Mamie's ears on themorning of the second day, when her mother had been pronounced a littlebetter, and she could be coaxed out of doors.

  But mamma was still very ill, and must be kept perfectly quiet;and Mamie, feeling that this was all her fault, and filled withself-reproach, which was perhaps the greater for her father's kindness,had no spirits for play, and sat quite subdued and mournful in themidst of her playmates, who were all ready to devote themselves to her,and to talk to her if she did not choose to play.

  "Mamma says," said Lily, when she had concluded her account of theway in which they came to be at the light-house,--"Mamma says that itwas quite a providential _dispensary_ that we should have gone to thelight-house."

  "What does that mean?" asked Belle.

  "I asked her," answered Lily; "and she said it meant that it reallyseemed as if God intended us to go there on purpose to find Mamie andLulu; because she had really thought it was too late for us to be out,and was not very willing to be persuaded."

  "Because God knew what trouble we were in, and wanted to help us outof it, I suppose," said Mamie thoughtfully, with the words of herneglected watchword in her mind.

  "Yes," said Belle. "If He did not see us always, and take care of us,what would become of us? Mamie, it makes me feel like crying, even nowwhen you're all safe, to think about your being out all alone on thesea in the dark."

  "Yes," assented Lily, "it did me, too, at first; but I'm getting usedto it now. But I hope there's one good thing come out of it. Mammadoesn't approve at all of children sitting up late; but now, I suppose,she will see that it can have very delightful consequences."

  "Does she think that light-house man would not have brought us home ifyou had not come to his light-house?" said Mamie.

  "Well, no; but I suppose you wouldn't have been home quite so soon,"said Lily. "Maybe he wouldn't have brought you at all till the morning."

  "I never knew the nights were so dreadfully long," said Mamie. "Peoplesay the nights and the days are just about as long as each other, andnow I know they're not. The nights are a great deal the longest,--oh,so long!"

  And Mamie gave a shuddering sigh at the recollection of the long, wearytime she had passed upon the waters.

  "Mamma said the time seemed longer to you than it really was," saidLily, "because you were alone and frightened; and the days are reallythe longest now, 'cause it's summer. In the winter the nights are thelongest. It must be so, you know, 'cause our jography says so, and our'Elements of 'Stronomy' too."

  "Then they never were up all night, and don't know," said Mamieemphatically, quite resenting the idea that any one could be betterinformed in the matter than she who had had such an experience.

  "Who were not up all night?" asked Mabel.

  "She means the jogra-fers and the 'stron-amers," said Lily; "not thebooks of course, but the people who wrote them; but they must have beengrown up; so I dare say they stayed up all night if they chose."

  "I should think that _I_ ought to know about it," said Mamie; "and whenI'm grown up, I shall write a jography that says all the others don'tknow; 'cause once I stayed up and up and up, and there was a piece ofthe night left yet to go to sleep in."

  Mamie was not to be convinced, and the others, with a feeling thatshe was to be indulged, and not contradicted under the presentcircumstances, left her to her belief.

  "What did you think about, Mamie?" asked Belle. "Did you think you weregoing to be drowned?"

  "Yes," said Mamie, her eyes filling with tears; "and, Belle, Ithought a good deal about that watchword you gave me, and how, if I'dremembered it all the time, that wouldn't have happened to me; but itdid make me feel a little better,--no, not better, there wasn't anybetter about it,--but not quite so very afraid to think God could seeme, and take care of me, even out on the sea and in the dark. I didnot see, either, how He was going to help me; and yet the way did comequite easy after all. And now--and now"--Mamie hesitated, and lookeddoubtfully from one to another of her companions.

  "Well," said Lily encouragingly.

  "I think," said Mamie, "that now I will have to remember alwaysthat God sees me all the time; and that He would think I am veryungrateful, and don't deserve to be taken care of, if I don't try to begood and never disobey mamma."

  "Yes, I think so too," said Lily; "and that's the very best kind of averse to help you to 'resist the hm--hm--and he will flee from you.'"

  "The who?" asked Belle, amazed; and Mamie and Mabel also lookedinquiringly at this mysterious utterance from Lily.

  "The hm--hm," repeated Lily, no ways abashed, and persisting in theambiguous form of expression; "you know that verse, don't you?"
/>   "I know the verse, 'Resist the _devil_, and he will flee from you,'"said Belle.

  "Yes, that's it," said Lily; "but if everybody knows the verse, which'most all the world does,--and ought to be ashamed of themselves, ifthey don't,--why, then it's just as well to say hm--hm, and not thatother ugly word."

  "But the Bible says it," said Mabel.

  "Yes," answered Lily, in a tone of indulgence for the Scriptures; "theBible can say what it pleases, because it _is_ the Bible; but mortalsought to be more careful."

  "You learned that from Maggie and Bessie, I suppose," said Belle. "Theynever say that word if they can help it."

  "Yes, partly," said Lily with an air of becoming modesty, but yet asone who feels that she has ground of her own to stand upon, "partlyfrom them, but partly from my own self. You see, children, I do it tokeep myself from temptation."

  "Temptation of what?" asked Belle.

  "Temptation to say things I ought not," answered Lily. "Mamma told meI was falling into the habit of talking rather strongly, of saying'awful' and 'horrid,' and such words to things that were not at allawful or horrid, or saying I was 'most dead, when I was not 'most deadat all; and she said she wanted me to watch myself, and try not to usesuch strong expressions; and I thought hm--hm was rather a strongexpression, so I would not say it right out when there was no need.What's that now?" as a smothered laugh was heard from behind the closedblinds of the parlor. "I just believe some one is there listening tous. Go and see, Mamie; it's your house."

  Mamie did as she was bid; but she found no one near the window; andLily was satisfied that she had been mistaken, as Mamie reportedonly two or three young ladies in the parlor, who did not seem to bethinking of them.

  "You know," she continued, when Mamie had returned, "that when we feellike doing a thing, it is best to keep ourselves quite out of the wayof temptation,--I learned that pretty well when I was always puttingoff,--and I _do_ like to talk that kind of a way; so I'm going to keepmyself as much as I can without using wrong words at all. I only beganthis morning; but you see I've improved already."

  Mamie drew a long, weary sigh.

  "Yes, Lily," she said with a doleful shake of her head, "yes, I knownow how one ought not to put one's self in the way of temptation, ifthey don't want to do a wrong thing. But--but--I'm afraid I meant allthe time to go on the breakwater if I found a chance. And I b'lieve,oh, dear! I b'lieve all these days I have been real mad at mamma 'causeshe would not let me go; and now, if she don't get well, I can nevertell her how sorry I am, or try to make up for it."

  "But she's a little better to-day," said Belle consolingly. "I heardeverybody say so."

  "Yes, a little," said Mamie, who was again crying bitterly; "but papasays she is very ill yet; and even if she does get well, I shall alwayshave to remember how bad I was to her. I think I never knew before howdreadful it is to be bad to your mother; and, when I was out in thatboat, I b'lieve I thought of 'most every naughty thing I ever did toher."

  "Then if she gets well now, it will make you very careful how youbehave badly or saucily to her again," said Lily; "so that will be agood thing."

  "Oh, yes! I should think it might," sighed Mamie.

  "Mamie, we are very sorry for you," said Belle, taking her hand andholding it tenderly.

  "So am I," said Mabel: "and, Mamie, I believe I know a little how youfeel by the duckling."

  "Oh, you can't!" said Mamie almost indignantly; "a duckling is nothingto your own mamma. But, Mabel, I was horrid and stuck-up to you aboutthat duckling, and made an awful fuss 'cause you took it without leave;and then I did a great deal worse thing myself, and never remembered ordidn't care that God saw me all the time. It's very good in you to beso kind to me now, and never say any thing hateful."

  Mamie had on her confession cap now, and was fain to make a cleanbreast of all her misdemeanors, past and present, feeling, poor child!as if it were somewhat of a relief to do so.

  "I'm never going to make faces at you again," said Mabel, moved by thisnew meekness.

  "And I shan't plague you, and try to make you mad on purpose," saidMamie. "Let's make up for all our lives."

  And offering her lips to Mabel, a kiss of peace was exchanged betweenthese two little girls, who had never been very good friends, but whohad always taken a naughty pleasure in aggravating one another, and ineach one making the most of the other's faults.

  "Here comes papa. He's been down to the post-office, and brought themail," said Lily. "Papa, is there a letter for me? Maggie promised towrite to me; but perhaps she has not done it yet."

  "Well, I rather think she has favored Mamie this time," said Mr.Norris, dropping into Mamie's lap a letter addressed in MaggieBradford's large, round handwriting.

  Brightening instantly at this unexpected consolation, Mamie caught upthe letter, and eagerly opened it.

  "Maggie never wrote to me before," she said; "and her letters are sonice."

  "Yes," said Belle; "but I wonder if there is none for me. Maggie writesto me once a week, and Bessie writes once a week, and this is the dayfor Maggie's letter. Mr. Norris, didn't any letter come for me?"

  Mr. Norris answered in the most satisfactory manner by rapidly turningover the letters in his hand, and selecting one which he teasinglyheld a moment above her reach; then dropped it into the little eager,outstretched hands.

  "I'll read mine aloud," said Mamie, "'cause Maggie's letters are sovery interesting.

  "MY DEAR MAMIE,--It is the turn for me to write to Belle to-day, but I thought she would not mind if I wrote to you instead, for we heard this afternoon of your going off in the boat, and nearly being lost, and saved by a fisherman, which was the greatest of mercies, and of your mamma being so ill. And so because we should comfort the afflicted, I thought you might like a letter, and Bessie will write to Belle. We are very sorry for you, dear; specially for your feeling so badly about your mamma, which was only to be expected if you had the feelings of human nature; and remorse is hard for mankind to bear, indeed, not to be endured. But I never heard of such a dreadful adventure as you had and dear little Lulu, too, except once when the railroad ran off with Bessie and Belle and me, and no one to take care of us, but a gentleman we did not know, who was very kind, and I believe sent to us by the hand of the Lord, and restored us to the bosom of our family.

  "But we are very glad you were saved and not taken away by drowning from your orphaned parents, or made a melancholy accident in the newspapers of, which would try the souls of your friends to read. Bessie and I cried a good deal when we heard about you, and I thought you would like to know about it, because it's always pleasant to know that your friends feel badly about you. We hope that your mamma will soon recover, and I am your

  very respected and attached friend MAGGIE STANTON BRADFORD.

  "P.S. I would not wish to say any thing unkind about a present my friends gave me, but a cruel young gentleman of my acquaintance presented me a dead bird he shot, and I would not have it, but cried. But I hope my conduct made a sensible impression upon him, for the next time some one asked him to go shooting he said no, which makes me think he may in time come to have a feeling heart which cannot bear to take life.

  "Give my love to Lily and tell her I will write to her to-morrow if unexpected circumstances do not prevent.

  "M. S. B."

  This fine letter met with all the approval which Maggie's compositionsgenerally called forth; and then Bessie's to Belle was read aloud forthe benefit of all who might choose to hear.

  "MY DEAR BELLE,--Maggie writes to Mamie so I write this leter to you but it is not my day but Maggie's. I wish you would come to our hose and see us cors we miss you. i can play 2 tunes Captain Jinks and Lord in the morning thou shalt hear on the piano and i like to play on the piano
but Maggie does it better, our new old cook has a gra kitty and it goes to sleep in her pokit and the cook is black and Fred has a white rabit and it stiks up its nose at us and we have 2 new horses and mamma a pony for her faton so we are quite a menagery and we want you and Lily to see them all. So ask your papa to bring you to spend that day with us and give my dear love to Lily and Lulu, and a little skrap of love to Mabel and Mamie but I am sorry for Mamie and Maggie and I cried about her. No I think you may give a good deal of my love to Mamie, but not too much.

  from affekshin BESSIE RUSH BRADFORD."

  Happily Belle had spelled over this letter to herself before readingit aloud, which Bessie had probably not intended; and the wise littlewoman had the good sense and good feeling to omit such parts of it asmight seem at all slighting to Mabel and Mamie, of whom Bessie, as youwill have perceived, was not over fond.

  It was many days before Mamie recovered her usual spirits andliveliness, not indeed until her mother was well again; and it wasalmost touching to see how tenderly she hung about her when she wasonce more permitted to go to her; watching for the least opportunityto wait on her, or do her some small service; sitting for hours besideher bed, content only to hold her hand or kiss her pale cheek; sosubdued, so gentle, so submissive and good, that it was hard to believeshe was the Mamie of old.

  Nor did the good impression her severe lesson made upon her wear offwhen mamma had recovered; and Mrs. Stone felt that all she had sufferedwas well repaid by the new docility and obedience shown by her littledaughter.

  She was less selfish and wilful with her playmates too, more gentle andamiable than they had ever known her. The memory of that lonely nightupon the dark sea,--for it was impossible to persuade Mamie that shedid not pass the greater part of the night upon the water,--and thethought of the care which had watched over her there, were not easilyshaken off; and perhaps it was as well that for many succeeding weeksshe was within sight and sound of the objects which kept it constantlybefore her mind.

  Certain it is that the change in her was very great and plainly to beseen, and, as Belle said to the astonished Maggie and Bessie when theyremarked upon it, "more as if she tried to _live_ her watchword than to_talk so much_ about it."

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  Transcriber's note:

  Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.

  Page 10, word "a" added to text (that seldom has a)

  Page 35, "eat" changed to "ate" (she ate her cake)

  Page 156, word "on" added to the text (you on a nice)