The Fairy Godmothers and Other Tales Part 12

To school therefore poor Reuben went; and Theodore was almost astonished himself at the blank which his absence created.

But having desired that continued reports should be sent to him of his conduct, he meanwhile began seriously to think what was to become of him hereafter. At last it occurred to him that he might employ him in some way or other about his property; and with a view to this, Theodore himself began to take more interest in his estate than he had had the energy to bestow before, and made himself more intimately acquainted with the wants and modes of life of those under his control.

Thus another year pa.s.sed away in quiet but constant occupation; and the many opportunities Theodore now had of doing good, softened and cheered his mind. But he was not quite cured. For of all things in the world whims are the very hardest to cure, because, reason as you will, people still stick to their whims. Reuben was not allowed to return once during that year to the old hall. During the last few months, however, his progress had been most satisfactory, and the Master considered that the evil was overcome; and so, at the end of the year, Theodore wrote word to Reuben that he wished him to come "home" for his holidays. Poor Reuben cried bitterly again when he read the letter; for, as he said to the Master, "It is _not_ my home, though he has been very good to me. I have no home!"

Theodore's heart overflowed with pleasure and almost pride when he saw the boy again. Every turn in the expression of his face was improved; and when Theodore first took his hand, the lad bent his face over it and sobbed out an entreaty for pardon for his dreadful wickedness.

"Reuben," cried Theodore, "never say that again. All is forgotten since your conduct is changed. Forget the past as soon as possible. It will never be remembered by me."

Time went on during the holidays very happily on the whole. In fact there was no drawback; but that now and then Theodore, who would often sit looking at his adopted child's face, noticed a painful expression which he could not account for. His conduct was irreproachable and his respect for Theodore seemed, if possible, increased; but he would not be frank with him, and no encouragement beguiled him into the ease of trusted affection. Theodore did not choose to notice this for some weeks, but, as the time of Reuben's return to school drew near, he was unwilling to let him go without some expostulation.

"Reuben," said he one day, "you are going back to school. Your conduct has quite satisfied me: but tell me, before you go, why you so often look unhappy? It is a poor return (though I now touch on this subject for the first time in my life), it is a poor return for the interest I have taken in you; and for the real love you know I feel towards you!"

For a moment Reuben's large dark eyes glanced up at Theodore's face; but they sank again as quickly: his cheeks grew crimson, and tears rolled over them which he could not conceal.

"What is the matter, Reuben; what is the meaning of this? Am I loving one who does not love me in return?"

"You _cannot_ love me, Sir!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the boy so earnestly that it quite startled his companion.

"Reuben, what _can_ you mean? Have you forgotten how I have taken you and acted by you as if I had been your Father. I _cannot love_ you?

What else but _love_ for you has made me do what I have done?"

"That was all your goodness and the kindness of your heart, Sir. You couldn't love me when you picked me up in the road. It was pity and kindness, and it has been the same ever since; not _Love_--" and the tears again struggled to his eyes.

Theodore rushed suddenly from the room and into his private apartment, and falling on his knees, spread his hands over his head in prayer.

"My Lord and my G.o.d!" cried he solemnly, "what means this echo from my own heart? Am I awake, or do I dream?" A profound silence was around him; but, as he arose and opened his eyes, he beheld before him, though fading rapidly from his sight, the angelic visions he had seen two years before.

He returned to Reuben, who was sitting at the table, his face buried in his arms.

Theodore laid his hand upon him. "Reuben, look up! You are under a great mistake. You are but a boy, and must not fancy you know the ins and outs of the human heart. Reuben, I do love you, and have always loved you."

"You cannot, Sir!"

"Again? and why not?"

"You are too much above me; I am an outcast, and was a beggar. It wasn't likely you could _love_ me at any time. Besides, there has been something since."

"What?"

"You told me to forget it, Sir, but I cannot. After all your kindness and goodness, and trying to make me happy and do me every good, I was all along (during the first year), doing what was wrong, deceiving you and injuring you. I am not only an outcast, but I have been wicked and ungrateful, and made you unhappy by my misconduct. Indeed I cannot bear to think of it; but I dare not deceive myself about your _Love_, Sir! I know you _cannot_ love me; but I am so grateful to you for your goodness, I hope you will not be angry with me for speaking the truth: only, though I am grateful and try to be contented, I cannot be as _happy_ as if you _did_ love me."

As Theodore gazed on poor Reuben's face, he saw standing behind him the beautiful visions once more.

"Now judge by your own heart!" murmured the Spirits, as smiling they disappeared.

And Theodore did so. Going up to Reuben, he put his arms around him, and wept over him tears of love and grat.i.tude for the blessing which he felt stealing into his own mind. "Reuben," cried he, "my child Reuben! There have been but two human beings in the world on whom I have bestowed my love; for, like you, I lost my parents young. These two were--her I lost and yourself!"

"If I thought you _loved_ me, I would die for you!" cried Reuben, springing up and gazing earnestly on Theodore's face.

"My G.o.d!" murmured Theodore, "may I be able to feel this to Thee!"

I think more words are unnecessary. You cannot doubt that Theodore soon convinced Reuben of his love, nor that Theodore took the lesson to himself, and now saw that G.o.d had placed in the human heart a witness of the possibility of His love to man. Yes, the clinging affection we feel for those we have been kind to; our own power of forgiving _any_ thing to them; is an instinct which has been mercifully implanted in our hearts to teach us to believe in that Love of G.o.d, which is otherwise so incredible to human reason.

If you care to know what became of Theodore and Reuben, you must in fancy pa.s.s over a few years. Reuben soon had so strong a wish to go to sea, that he entered the merchant service; and by the time he became Master of his own vessel and revisited the hall when he came ash.o.r.e, Theodore was to be found there with a kind and gentle wife by his side; and frolicking about the ancient hall were a parcel of noisy children, to whom the arrival from sea of him whom they always unaccountably would call "Uncle Reuben," was ever a gala treat. Dear readers, Farewell!

BENEDICITE.