CHAPTER IV.

MY MOTHER AND DEACON WEBBER.

LIKE the preceding day, I wandered in search of Helen. I passed through one piece of woods after another, until I came to a lot of wood-land, some three miles from home. Here the scenery seemed natural, as if I had lately been there; and yet I had no recollection of ever being there before. I was positive that this was the first time. Presently I came in sight of a noble-looking tree, unusually large; and then I remembered my dream. The tree was the same, and at its base incredible as it may

seem the form of a child was impressed upon the earth, as though it had lain there for hours. The spot where her head had rested was precisely the same; a large limb of the tree was directly over it. I was now satisfied that Helen had slept there on the night she had fled from her enemy. She might, I thought, be still in the woods. I rambled through every part of them, and often shouted her name; but, like the preceding day, echoes were my only reply. When nearly sunset, faint and weary, I returned home.

On the morning following, I received a message from my mother, commanding my immediate presence in the

sitting-room. I knew what I might expect, but I did not care in the least. Despair had nerved me for anything. I entered the room without flinching, and saw, sitting upon the sofa, my mother and Deacon Webber. Their faces darkened, when their eyes fell upon me, like a thunder-cloud; but this did not alarm me in the least. I just then liked it, and was willing that the lightning and thunder should follow. "Take a seat," said my mother, without altering a muscle of her face. I mechanically obeyed, and sat myself down in front of my accusers. They looked at me sternly, but without producing the effect they intended. Mother trembled, and I knew the storm was coming.

"How have you spent your time, during my absence, Henri?" she inquired.

"In doing good, I hope, mother," I replied.

"Wicked boy! Do not tell me so; for I know better.” "If you knew all about it, why did you ask me?" "To see if you would speak the truth."

"A worthy motive, truly!"

"The crimes which you have been guilty of, during my brief absence, are startling, and almost unaccountable, in one so young!

"That's news to me! Who are my accusers?" She pointed to the deacon.

"Very well," I said, regarding him contemptuously; "go on!"

"He has informed me that you

little servant-girl, Helen Means! "

have enticed away his

"Is that the biggest crime in the dark catalogue, I

wonder?"

"What have you to say to this charge? "I will tell you, in a few words. nothing can be more so."

It is false!

"Be careful how you speak, Henri! Don't be too hasty. Do you charge Deacon Webber with falsehood?" "It's a matter of very little consequence to me." The deacon arose, in a passion.

"Boy!" he said, "such insults cannot be allowed. Beware, sir, what you say, or you may be guilty of still greater crimes! I am an anointed vessel in the holy church,— a member of Christ's glorious body."

"I was not aware of that fact. Do you really believe that you are a member of Christ's glorious body, an

anointed vessel in his church?"

"Blessed be his holy name, I do! I know, for I have the evidence within me."

"I hope we shall see the fruits, then."

"You would, if you were not so blinded by sin and wicked works. Since I became a member of that mystical body, I trust that I have let my light shine upon a darkened world. When you speak against me, you speak against one of the elect, and you do it at your peril."

7

My mother gave a deep sigh.

"Those filthy rags," said I, "worn by Helen Means, are an evidence of your holiness and purity, I suppose.” "I see that you are terribly depraved," replied the deacon; and only the most severe chastisements will save you. Helen Means is a vicious child, like yourself. I knew that a solemn responsibility was resting upon me, and I resolved to be faithful. I did not mean that her blood should cling to the skirts of my garments. I had commenced a course of discipline which would, I doubt not, if you had not thwarted my plans, have proved effectual. I gave her poor clothes, because I wished to teach her humility. I let her go filthy and ragged, that she might learn how full of all uncleanness was her own heart, and how it was torn by the unresisted temptations of the devil. I chastised her severely, that she might think of the fearful chastisements which God would inflict upon her, if she did not repent of her sins,- her wicked lying and stealing, and other sinful deeds. I often told her of all this; and, previous to her acquaintance with you, the remedies were working admirably for the cleansing and purification of the sin-sick soul. And now, if she sinks into utter ruin, the hideous curse, burning and blasting the soul, will fall upon you!"

This sublime bombast, and hypocritical nonsense and wickedness, caused my mother to draw a long breath, while she seemed to shake as though cold chills were

creeping over her. I was tempted to ask her if she did not think she was going into an ague-fit. But, knowing that she was my mother, I restrained my wicked propensity for somewhat wicked jokes.

"You can now see, Henri," she said, "how fearfully wicked you have been. Repent, before it is too late! Restore that sinful child to the arms of her faithful guardian, and go and sin no more!"

I

"You ask of me an impossibility," said I, with a calmness that surprised me. "If it were in my power, would not do it. Bad as you represent me, I am not capable of a deed so monstrous. Should I be left to do so wicked a thing, I should never have the courage to ask God for mercy and pardon. Deacon Webber says that Helen Means is vicious, like myself. She is not vicious or depraved, whatever I may be; though she would have been made so, if she had not been so pure and truthful. Helen is an angel, Helen is an angel, all love, truth and goodness. It is a shame to abuse any one as she has been abused. Such is not the religion of the New Testament. I wish that some in your church, who are what they profess to be, followers of Jesus, could know what I know! They are too pure to ever receive the bread and wine from such unholy and polluted hands. You seek to frighten me by denunciations, by appealing to my fears; but your labor is vain and useless. If I have