The Angel and the Demon: A Tale by T. S. Arthur - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXVIII.
 CONCLUSION.

On the next day Adele Weir was taken by Mr. Fleetwood and Florence to the house of Mrs. Elder. The good lady, when she clearly understood the case, and read something of the girl’s character and state of mind, did not hesitate about receiving her, and Adele accepted the proffered home and refuge with tearful gratitude.

Mr. Fleetwood and Florence returned together. As they drew near the house of Mr. Dainty, they saw a woman ascend the steps and ring the bell. Before they came up, the door was opened and the woman entered.

“Who is that?” asked Mr. Fleetwood.

“If my eyes do not deceive me,” was the reply of Florence, “it is the mother of Adele Weir.”

“No! she would hardly dare venture here.”

“A mother will dare much for her child,” said Florence.

They moved forward quickly, and were soon at the door.

“Who came in just now?” inquired Miss Harper, in a low voice.

The waiter shook his head as he answered, “Don’t know, miss.”

“What name did she give?”

“She asked for Mrs. Dainty, but would not send up her name.”

“Let us go into the parlor,” said Mr. Fleetwood, in a whisper to Florence. Florence looked assent, and the two passed in. A woman closely veiled sat on one of the sofas.

“Mrs. Weir!” said Florence, speaking with blended surprise and indignation in the tones of her voice. The veil was drawn aside, revealing the pale face and glittering black eyes of Adele’s mother. Her thin lips were firmly set, and the expression of the woman’s countenance was resolute.

“I have come for my child!” she said, in a voice that betrayed much agitation of mind.

“She is not here,” Florence replied.

“She was brought here,” said the woman, fixing her piercing eyes upon the face of Miss Harper.

“She came here to restore to her mother the child a wicked woman enticed away, and you secreted, making yourself thereby a party to the crime.”

“And is here now?” said Mrs. Weir.

“No, she is not here,” answered Florence. “I said that once before.”

“Then where is she?”

Florence turned to Mr. Fleetwood, and the old gentleman promptly took her place.

“Beyond the reach of your blighting influence, madam,” said he, in his decided way, “and, I trust, forever beyond.”

“Sir, I will not be robbed of my child!” And the woman started to her feet, exhibiting not only strong excitement, but a determined spirit.

“Your child has fled from you in fear,” said Mr. Fleetwood, assuming a calmer voice, “and is now, I trust for her sake, entirely beyond your influence. She has made her election, and, so long as she continues in her present mind, will have friends to guide and protect her. And now, madam, let me warn you, in the beginning, against any attempts to annoy this family. Your daughter is not here, and therefore all search for her in this direction will be fruitless. If you come here again you will be handed over to the law. And I am not sure that we shall let you escape as it is. The part you have taken in the concealment of the child stolen from this house makes you an accomplice in the crime,—you and the man Dyer also.”

At the name of Dyer the woman started in surprise, and a shade of alarm came over her pale face.

“Mr. Dyer has nothing to do with the affairs of my house,” she said, quickly.

“He is known to have been a party in this wicked transaction.” Mr. Fleetwood spoke sternly and positively. “And I shall get the police on his track.”

Mrs. Weir manifested still greater disturbance, which encouraged the old gentleman to continue the assault in that direction.

“See to it, then, both of you!” he continued. “Such things are not to be done in the broad day and passed over as of light account. You will all of you find, before you are done with this nefarious business, that you have gone a step too far. Mrs. Jeckyl has escaped us; but some one must answer to outraged justice. Florence!” Mr. Fleetwood turned quickly to Miss Harper and said, “Tell the waiter that I wish to see him,” adding, in a lower key, “it will hardly do to let this woman escape.”

The closing words reached the ears for which they were really intended, and Mrs. Weir, as Florence turned to leave the parlor, moved toward the door leading into the passage.

“Stay,” said Mr. Fleetwood, speaking to Mrs. Weir. “Don’t go yet!”

If he had said “Go,” instead, she could not have shown a greater willingness to depart.

“John!” Mr. Fleetwood called for the waiter, in a loud, imperative voice.

That was enough. Mrs. Weir’s alarm was complete, and she fled precipitately from the house.

A few days afterward Mr. Fleetwood visited the neighborhood in which she had lived, but found her house vacant, and “To Let” on the door.

The task before Miss Harper was no light one. It required more than a single victory over the evil spirits who had gained, through disorderly rites, power in the child’s mind, to dispossess them. Scarcely a day passed in which Madeline did not relapse into moody states or show a strangely perverse will. Patience, gentleness, loving-kindness, all were brought into exercise; and sometimes the contest would be long and painful. But always the angel proved stronger than the demon, and the tried spirit of the child arose, through divine aid, superior to its foes.

As weeks and months glided onward, the old tranquil states returned, and the gentlest and sweetest of all the children was restored to herself again,—stood clothed and in her right mind. Mrs. Dainty, from whose eyes the veil had fallen, now saw the character of Florence in its true light. There had been no intrusions upon her selfish pride, no humiliating concessions required. A quiet dignity and gentle reserve had marked the conduct of Miss Harper from the hour their new relation began. Instead of having to throw up barriers against the too familiar approaches of an unwelcome inmate, Mrs. Dainty soon found that she must court, if she would have, equal intercourse.

With an easy grace and unobtrusive self-possession, Miss Harper took her place as one of the family. Before a year had passed, even Mrs. Dainty had learned to confide in her discretion, to defer to her judgment in all things relating to the children, and to regard her as a true friend. Mr. Fleetwood looked on, a happier man than he had been for many years. No tenderer love for a daughter was ever born in a father’s heart than that which he felt for the child of his adoption. And he was very proud of her. As she gradually passed into the refined and intelligent circles that opened spontaneously to receive her, and there became an object of unconscious attraction, the old man looked on with a swelling heart, while admiration blended with love and pride. And yet he loved her best of all for the daily duties through which she passed with such an earnest self-devotion. He saw the children of his weak, vain, worldly-minded niece growing daily more and more like their guide, companion, and friend. He had loved them from the beginning for their childish innocence and affection, but love took now a deeper tone, and gathered strength and emotion from the beauty of goodness that daily blossomed in their lives, the sweet presage of fruit in sunny autumn.

Of Mrs. Jeckyl no more was seen or heard. She vanished like an evil spirit when the sun-rays of truth stream down through the rifted clouds of error. The shadow of her presence had left a blight on the earth; but warm sunshine and gentle dews made the soil fruitful again, and good seeds, planted by careful hands, soon shot up the tender blade and covered the desert place with greenness. Mrs. Weir came not again. The warning of consequences had thoroughly alarmed her, and Adele was permitted to remain under the wise, religious care of Mrs. Elder. Very deeply had her young life been disturbed by the disorderly influences to which she had been subjected in her mother’s house; and there were times when the evil spirits who had gained access to her mind found some of the old avenues unguarded, and flowed in with their sphere of error, invading even the outer citadel of natural and corporeal life. But Mrs. Elder knew wherein lay the power of exorcism. She knew that as she filled the mind of Adele full, as it were, of the precepts and narratives of the Divine Word which was “in the beginning,” which was “with God,” and which “was God,” she would succeed in casting out the spirits who sought to rule her, and set her freed soul upon the Rock of Eternal Ages. She did not labor in vain.

And so good triumphed. The Angel was stronger than the Demon. The human souls that came forth from God, with God-given freedom of will, were restored to the orderly life into which they were created, free, as reason developed, to select, unbiassed by the intrusion of disorderly spiritual spheres, the paths of life in which they would move through the world. Without such rational freedom, spiritual regeneration is impossible; and any thing that disturbs such freedom cannot have its origin in heaven. So we read the doctrine of life; and, so reading it, we teach.

THE END.