"I have had a fearful dream, Edith!" said he; "a very fearful dream. Thank God, I am awake now."
"A dream, Edward?" returned his wife, not fully comprehending him.
"Yes, love, a dream; yet far too real. Surely, I dreamed, or was under some dire enchantment. But the spell is gonegone, I trust, for ever."
"What spell, love? Oh, speak to me a plainer language!"
"I think, Edith," said the young man, after remaining thoughtfully silent for some time, "that I will try and get another place. I don't believe it is good for me to live with Leonard Jasper. Gold is the god he worships; and I find myself daily tempted to bend my knee in the same idolatry."
"Edward!" A shadow had fallen on the face of Edith.
"You look troubled at my words, Edith," resumed the young man; "yet what I say is true, too true. I wish it were not so. Ah! this passage through the world, hard and toilsome as it is, has many, many dangers."
"If we put our trust in God, we need have no fear," said Edith, in a gentle yet earnest and penetrating voice, laying her hand lovingly on the hot forehead of her husband, and gazing into his eyes.
"Nothing without can harm us. Our worst enemies are within."
"Within?"
"Yes, love; within our bosoms. Into our distrusts and unsatisfied desires they enter, and tempt us to evil."
"True, true," said Claire, in an abstracted manner, and as if speaking to himself.
"What more do we want to make us happy?" asked Edith, comprehending still more clearly her husband's state of mind.
Claire sighed deeply, but made no answer.
"More money could not do it," she added.
"Money would procure us many comforts that we do not now possess," said the young man.
"I doubt this, Edward. It might give more of the elegancies of life; but, as I have often said, these do not always produce corresponding pleasure. If they come, without too ardent seeking, in the good pleasure of Providence, as the reward of useful and honest labour, then they may increase the delights of life; but never otherwise. If the heart is set on them, their acquirement will surely end in disappointment. Possession will create satiety; and the mind too quickly turns from the good it has toiled for in hope so long, to fret itself because there is an imagined higher good beyond. Believe me, Edward, if we are not satisfied with what God gives us as the reward of useful toil to-day, we will not be satisfied with what he gives to-morrow."
"Perhaps you are right, Edith; I believe you are. My mind has a glimpse of the truth, but to fully realize it is hard. Ah, I wish that I possessed more of your trusting spirit!"
"We are both cared for, Edward, by the same infinite lovecared for, whether we doubt and fear, or trust confidingly."
"It must be so. I see it now, I feel it nowsee it and feel it in the light of your clearer intuitions. Ah, how different from this pure faith is the faith of the world! Men worship gold as their god; they trust only in riches."
"And their god is ever mocking them. To-day he smiles upon his votary, and to-morrow hides his face in darkness. To-day he gives full coffers, that are empty to-morrow. But the true riches offered so freely to all by the living God are blessed both in the getting and in the keeping. These never produce satiety, never take to themselves wings. Good affections and true thoughts continually nourish and re-create the mind. They are the soul's wealth, the perennial fountains of all true enjoyment. With these, and sufficient for the body's health and comfort, all may be happy: without them, the riches of the world have no power to satisfy."
A pause ensued, during which the minds of both wandered back a little.
"If you feel," said Edith, recalling the words of her husband, "that there is danger in remaining where you are"
"That was hastily spoken," Edward Claire interrupted his wife, "and in a moment of weakness. I must resist the evil that assaults me. I must strive with and overcome the tempter. I must think less of this world and its riches; and in my thoughts place a higher value upon the riches without wings of which you have spoken to me so often."
"Can you remain where you are, and be out of danger?" asked Edith.
"There is danger everywhere."
"Ay; but in some positions more imminent danger. Is it well to court temptation?"
"Perhaps not. But I cannot afford to give up my place with Jasper."
"Yet, while remaining, you will be strongly tempted."
"Jasper is dishonest at heart. He is ever trying to overreach in dealing, and expects every one in his employment to be as keen as himself."
"Oh, Edward, do not remain with him a day longer! There is death to the spirit in the very atmosphere around such a man. You cannot serve such a master, and be true to yourself and to God. It is impossible."
"I believe you are right in that, Edith; I know you are right," said the young man, with a strong emphasis on the last sentence. "But what am I to do? Five hundred dollars a year is little enough for our wants; I have, as you know, been dissatisfied with that. I can hardly get as much in another situation. I know of but one opening, and that is with Melleville."
"Go back to him, Edward," said his wife.
"And get but four hundred a year? It is all he can pay."
"If but three hundred, it were a situation far to be preferred to the one you now hold."
"A hundred dollars a year, Edith, taken from our present income, would deprive us of many comforts."
"Think of how much we would gain in true inward enjoyment, Edward, by such a change. Have you grown happier since you entered the store of Mr. Jasper?"
The young man shook his head sadly, and murmured, "Alas! no."
"Can anything compensate for the anguish of mind we have both suffered in the last few hours, Edward?"
There was a quick flushing of the face, as Edith said this.
"Both suffered!" exclaimed Edward, with a look of surprise.
"Ay, both, love. Can the heart of my husband feel a jar of discord, and mine not thrill painfully? Can he be in temptation, without an overshadowing of my spirit? Can he be in darkness, and I at the same time in light? No, no; that were impossible. You have been in great peril; I knew that some evil threatened you, even before you confessed it with your lips. Oh, Edward, we have both tasted, in the last few hours, a bitterer cup than has yet been placed to our lips. May we not be called upon to drink it to the very dregs!"
"Amen!" fell solemnly from the lips of Edward Claire, as a cold shudder crept along his nerves. If there had been any wavering in his mind before, there was none now. He resolved to make restitution in the morning, and, as soon as opportunity offered, to leave a place where he was so strongly tempted to step aside from the path of integrity. The virtue of his wife had saved him.
CHAPTER V
"Edward," said Mr. Jasper, on the next morning, soon after he came to the store, "Was any time fixed for the funeral yesterday?"
"I believe not."
"That was an oversight. It might as well take place to-day as to-morrow, or a week hence, if there are no intimate friends or relatives to be thought of or consulted. I wish you would take the forenoon to see about this troublesome matter. The undertaker will, of course, do every thing according to your directions. Let there be as little expense as possible."
While they were yet speaking, the undertaker came in to make inquiry as to the funeral arrangements to be observed.
"Is the coffin ready?" asked Jasper, in a cold, business manner.
"It is," was the reply.
"What of the ground? Did you see to her husband's funeral?"
"Yes. I have attended to all these matters. Nothing remains but to fix the time, and notify the clergyman."