George Leatrim Part 4

'That night Mrs. Leatrim died. Her son's tragic end brought on a fatal return of her dangerous malady. When Ralph heard of her death, he went out and hung himself. What Dr. Leatrim's feelings were at this unlooked-for desolation of all his earthly hopes, one can only imagine, it is impossible to describe. One grave contained the mortal remains of the mother and son, and the sad story created for the bereaved husband and father a world-wide sympathy.

'It was some years after the occurrence of this domestic tragedy before I visited Westcliff. Time had softened the anguish of the wound, but it was still unclosed, and left the traces of a deep, incurable grief in my uncle's face. He had become a drooping, white-haired man, but was still at his post, a faithful and zealous minister of the gospel.

'Sorrow had worn smooth all the harsh angles in his character, and made him simple and affectionate as a little child. He had borne the cross and worn the crown of thorns, and, purified by self-denial and suffering, had found love a more powerful weapon than fear in bringing souls to Christ. His calamities had endeared him to his people, and he had become their pastor in the truest sense of the word.

'On the anniversary of the day when George and his mother died, Dr.

Leatrim holds a solemn fast, and excludes himself from every eye, spending the long day in meditation and prayer.

'One fine summer evening last July, I was strolling through Westcliff churchyard, and found the dear old man lying on the turf that covered the remains of his wife and son. He called me to him.

'"This little hillock of green sod," he said, "contains all that was once dearest to me on earth. My heart rebelled against G.o.d when my treasures were taken from me; but the Judge of all the earth knew what was best for my eternal peace. It was not until these idols were shattered in the dust that I discovered that I was poor, and blind, and naked, and not a righteous man, wiser and better than my neighbours. In my deep sorrow and humiliation I was taught the knowledge of myself; that I was still in my sins, a proud, unregenerated man. Yes; I can now acknowledge with the deepest grat.i.tude, that, heavy and maddening as the blow was, it was necessary to bring me to G.o.d, and make me a true Christian."

'I went up to the monument. It was a simple urn of white marble, surrounded by beautiful flowering shrubs. The inscription that recorded the untimely death of his son made me start, it was so painfully characteristic of the truthfulness of the father:

'"Here, repose in peace the mortal remains of George Leatrim, who died at the age of 15, of a broken heart, caused by a false accusation and the unchristian severity of his too credulous father. Reader, mourn not for the dead, but weep sore for the living."

'I saw that my uncle was watching me with his eyes full of tears.

'He told me the sad story you have just read, sitting beside that grave in the dim twilight. How much I respected the undying love of the faithful heart, that never sought to spare himself in the mournful narration.

'"Ah," he said, rising from his rec.u.mbent posture, and speaking in a cheerful, hopeful voice, "How little we 'know of the spirit of which we are made.' I have reason to rejoice--ay! and I do rejoice--that G.o.d gave me such a son, and that he died a true Christian martyr, forgiving and praying for the wretched sinners that caused his death."'