Chapter III

After their departure from Mrs. Weston’s, Mr. Rogers walked by the side of Louise towards her residence. The conversation was earnest, and at times warm, for Louise had opinions of her own, and was not diffident in maintaining them, even against the eloquence of the parson.

Mr. Rogers was not less pleased with the spirit and independence of his companion than he was with her warm heart and charitable disposition. And when he bade adieu to her at the door of Mr. Maylie’s house, he could not banish her from his mind.

The following day was Sunday. Oddly enough for him, the minister had not a word to say about missions or the heathen. His text was, “The poor ye have always with you.”

It was a noble sermon, showing that the poor, by being continually before the eye, came to be regarded with indifference and neglect, while objects of charity far removed by distance, excited the liveliest sympathy and commiseration. He demonstrated that the first duty of all was to relieve distress in their midst; in fine, that “charity begins at home.” It was shown, very much to the edification of Deacon Hapgood, who sat in the broad aisle, wondering “what the minister was driving at,” that a rich man could not blind the eye of his Maker by giving large sums to the missions, while he oppressed the poor, and turned a deaf ear to their prayer for help.

Louise was deeply interested in the sermon, while a majority of the congregation arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Rogers had gone crazy. It was a reflection of her views, and a feeling of proud satisfaction pervaded her mind, as she reflected that she had been instrumental in calling the minister’s attention to the subject.

The effect of the sermon was immediate and substantial. Every one of the “eligible young ladies” straightway emptied the contents of their purses into Mrs. Weston’s lap. A society was proposed for ameliorating the condition of the poor, whom they always had with them. But Mr. Rogers cruelly vetoed the measure, not thinking an organized effort necessary to complete the work, especially as Mrs. Weston, who was, perhaps, the only destitute person in town, had money enough to pay a year’s rent and three months’ provision in her cellar.

In the mean time, Mr. Rogers manifested a laudable interest in the welfare of the village school, and even preached a sermon on the duty of parents to their children. He visited the school three times in one week, besides conferring four distinct and separate times with the schoolmistress at her boarding place in the evening.

Well, every body—except the eligible young ladies—said it was the minister’s duty to look after the school, and see that the mistress did her duty; so every body, with the exception mentioned, agreed that Mr. Rogers was particularly faithful in the discharge of his duty.

Susan was intensely astonished at the course of events, and more especially was she pained at the comparative neglect with which the missions had come to be regarded. Other charities, nearer home, shared the sympathies of the young and handsome pastor, and she suddenly realized that her extraordinary exertions in spreading the gospel among the heathen had failed to accomplish the purpose she had in view. But hope had not yet deserted her. Her eyes were not as wide open as they might have been, and she did not yet fully understand the “signs of the times.”

“What a blessed field of usefulness is open to the teacher of the district school!” exclaimed she, one day, to her confidant, the schoolmistress.

Louise looked up from the book she was reading, astonished at the remark—not at the important truth involved in it, but that it should proceed from such a source.

“It is, indeed, an interesting field of labor to those who can appreciate it,” replied she, a smile of intelligence crossing her good-natured countenance.

“I have been thinking, Louise, that I might be useful in that capacity.”

“I do not doubt it.”

“And I understand that the school in the south district will be vacant in a few weeks; don’t you think I could procure the appointment?”

“Why, Susan, you do not really intend to become a teacher, do you?”

“I certainly do. I feel that I have suffered too many years of my life to pass away in idleness. I intend to redeem the time.”

“You cannot mean it.”

“I am in earnest. Do you think I could get the appointment?”

“I can point you to a place nearer home, if you are really desirous of becoming a teacher.”

“What place?”

“You may have mine in the course of a month or two.”

“Yours, Louise!”

“I shall send in my resignation next week.”

“Why, Louise, I had no idea that you intended to abandon teaching,” said Susan, with undisguised astonishment; and, as she had regarded the attentions her friend received from the handsome young minister with a jealous eye, perhaps the announcement was received with some small degree of satisfaction.

“I had no such intention a few days ago. But if you wish for my place, you can have the opportunity of making the first application.”

“I shall be delighted to get it.”

“I will mention the subject when I send in my resignation.”

“But, Louise, you have never told us anything about this. Pray, what is going to happen?”

“I suppose I must tell you the secret. Of course you will not betray my confidence?”

“Certainly not.”

“I am going to be married this fall;” and Louise blushed up to her eyes.

“Going to be married! My goodness! And we never even found out that you had a beau.”

“It has been rather sudden.”

“I should think it had. Who is the fortunate gentleman?”

“Mr. Rogers.”

“Mr. Rogers!” exclaimed Susan, starting back in blank amazement, while the color deserted her cheeks, and her heart fluttered with emotion.

“Just so. From the time we met at Mrs. Weston’s, when I gave the poor woman my money, he has been very attentive—and, in short, the matter is now settled.”

“Well, I am astonished!”

Susan was astonished.

“I cannot wonder; I am astonished myself. But, Susan, I think I shall carry in my resignation to-morrow, and you had better have a written application ready.”

Susan bit her lips with vexation, and even wondered that she had not been fool enough to give her money to Mrs. Weston, instead of the missionary society.

“I think on the whole, Louise, that I shall not become a teacher at present,” said she, as she turned, and abruptly left the room.

In the fall Mr. Rogers and Louise were married. The parsonage is the home of peace, love, and charity. Mrs. Rogers is a model minister’s wife, and though the missionary cause receives an earnest support, she still believes, and acts upon the belief, that “Charity begins at home.”