Shadows from a Clouded Brow
A little thing clouded the brow of Mrs. Abercrombie--a very littlething. But if she had known how wide the shadows were oftendiffused, and how darkly they fell, at times, on some hearts, shewould have striven more earnestly, we may believe, to keep the skyof her spirit undimmed.It will not be uninstructive to note the incidents, in a single day,of Mrs. Abercrombie's life--to mark the early cloud upon her brow,and then to glance at the darkly falling shadows.Mr. Abercrombie was a man of sensitive feelings, and though he hadstriven for many years to overcome his sensitiveness, he had been nomore able to change this hereditary weakness than the leopard hisspots or the Ethiopian his skin. At home, the lightest jar ofdiscord disturbed him painfully, and the low vibration ceased not,often, for many hours. The clouded brow of his wife ever threw hisheart into shadow; and the dusky vail was never removed, untilsunlight radiated again from her countenance. It was all in vainthat he tried to be indifferent to these changeful moods--to keephis spirits above their influence: in the very effort atdisenthralment he was more firmly bound.From some cause, unknown to her husband, there was a cloud on thebrow of Mrs. Abercrombie one morning, as she took her place at thebreakfast-table. Mr. Abercrombie was reading, with his usualinterest, the newspaper, and the children were sporting in thenursery, when the bell summoned them to the dining-room. Allgathered, with pleasant thoughts of good cheer, around the table,and Mr. Abercrombie, after helping the little ones, was aboutmentioning to his wife some pleasant piece of news which he had justbeen reading, when, on lifting his eyes to her countenance, he sawthat it was clouded. The words died on his lips; a shadow darkenedover his feelings, and the meal passed in almost total silence--atleast so far as he was concerned. Once or twice he ventured a remarkto Mrs. Abercrombie; but the half-fretful tone in which she replied,only disturbed him the more.Soon the pleasant aspect of the children's countenances changed, andthey became captious and irritable. Both parents were fretted atthis reaction upon their own states of mind, and manifested, at someslight misconduct on the part of one or two of the children, adegree of ill-nature that instantly transferred itself to thoseagainst whom it was directed, and became apparent in theirintercourse one with another.Before summoned from the nursery, these children were playingtogether in the utmost harmony and good feeling; on returningthereto, the activity of another and far less amiable spirit wasmanifest; and instead of merry shouts and joyous laughter, angrywords and complaining cries sounded through the apartment.As Mr. Abercrombie left the house, Mrs. Abercrombie entered thenursery, attracted by the notes of discord. Had there been sunshineon her countenance, and firm but gentle remonstrance on her tongue,a quick change would have become apparent. But, ere this, theshadows she had thrown around her had darkened the atmosphere of herdwelling, and were now reflected back upon her heart, enshrouding itin deeper gloom. The want of harmony among her children increasedher mental disturbance, obscured her perceptions, and added to herstate of irritability. She could not speak calmly to them, norwisely endeavour to restore the harmony which had been lost. Herwords, therefore, while, by their authoritative force, they subduedthe storm, left the sky black with clouds that poured down anotherand fiercer tempest the moment her presence was removed.But this state of things could not be permitted. The motherreappeared, and, after some hurried inquiries into the cause ofdisturbance among her children, took for granted the statement ofthose who were most forward in excusing themselves and accusingothers, and unwisely resorted to punishment--unwisely, in the firstplace, because she decided hastily and from first appearances; andin the second place, because she was in no state of mind toadminister punishment. The consequence was, that she punished thoseleast to blame, and thereby did a great wrong. Of this she was madefully aware after it was too late. Then, indignant at the, falseaccusation by which she had been led into the commission of anunjust act, she visited her wrath with undue severity, and inunseemly passion, upon the heads of the real offenders.By this time the children were in a state of intimidation. It wasplain that their mother was fairly aroused, and each deemed it bestto be as quiet and inoffensive as possible. The reappearance ofharmony being thus restored, Mrs. Abercrombie, whose head and heartwere now both throbbing with pain, retired in a most unhappy stateof mind to her chamber, where she threw herself into a large chair,feeling unutterably wretched.And what was the origin of all this discord and misery? Why camethat cloud, in the beginning, to the brow of Mrs. Abercrombie--thatcloud, whose shadow had already exercised so baleful an influence?The cause was slight, very slight. But do not, fair reader, blameMrs. Abercrombie too severely, nor say this cause was censurablyinadequate. The touch of a feather will hurt an inflamed part. Ah!does not your own experience in life affirm this. Think of the lasttime the cloud was on your brow, and ask yourself as to the adequacyof the cause."But what was the cause?" you inquire. Well, don't smile: a pair ofgaiters had been sent home for Mrs. Abercrombie, late on the eveningprevious, and one of her first acts in the morning was to try themon. They did not fit! Now, Mrs. Abercrombie intended to go out onthat very morning, and she wished to wear these gaiters. "Enough tofret her, I should say!" exclaims one fair reader. "A slight cause,indeed!" says another, tossing her curls; "men are greatphilosophers!"We crave pardon, gentle ladies all, if, in our estimate of causes,we have spoken too lightly of this. But we have, at least, statedthe case fairly. Mrs. Abercrombie's brow was clouded because the newgaiters did not fit her handsome foot--a member, by the way, ofwhich she was more than a little vain.For an hour Mrs. Abercrombie remained alone in her chamber, feelingvery sad; for, in that time, reflection had come, and she was by nomeans satisfied with the part she had been playing, nor altogetherunconscious of the fact that from her clouded brow had fallen theshadows now darkening over her household. As soon as she had gainedsufficient control of herself to act toward her children more wiselyand affectionately, the mother took her place in the nursery, andwith a tenderness of manner that acted like a charm, attracted herlittle ones to her side, and inspired them with a new and betterspirit. To them sunshine was restored again; and the few rays thatpenetrated to the mother's heart, lighted its dim chambers, andtouched it with a generous warmth.But the shadows from Mrs. Abercrombie's clouded brow fell not aloneupon her household. The spirit that pervades the home-circle isoften carried forth by those who go out into the world. It was so inthis case. Mr. Abercrombie's feelings were overcast with shadowswhen he entered the store. There was a pressure, in consequence,upon his bosom, and a state of irritability which he essayed, thoughfeebly and ineffectually, to overcome."Where is Edward?" he inquired, soon after his arrival.Edward was a lad, the son of a poor widow, who had recently beenemployed in Mr. Abercrombie's store."He hasn't come yet," was answered."Not come yet?" said Mr. Abercrombie, in a fretful tone."No, sir.""This is the third time he has been late within the past week, is itnot?""Yes, sir.""Very well: it shall be the last time."At this moment the boy came in. Mr. Abercrombie looked at himsternly for a moment, and then said--"You won't suit me, sir. I took you on trial, and am satisfied. Youcan go home."The poor lad's face crimsoned instantly, and he tried to saysomething about his mother's being sick, but Mr. Abercrombie wavedhis hand impatiently, and told him that he didn't wish to hear anyexcuse.Scarcely had the boy left the presence of Mr. Abercrombie, ere thishasty action was repented of. But the merchant's pride ofconsistency was strong: he was not the man to acknowledge an error.His word had passed, and could not be recalled. Deeper were theshadows that now fell upon his heart--more fretted the state of mindthat supervened.Ah! the shadows would have been deeper still, could he have seenthat unhappy boy a little while afterward, as, with his face buriedin the pillow that supported the head of his sick mother, he sobbeduntil his whole frame quivered. Had Mr. Abercrombie only asked thereason why his appearance at the store was so late on this morning,he would have learned that the delay had been solely occasioned byneedful attendance on his sick and almost helpless mother; and on alittle further ininquiry, humanity would have dictated approval ratherthan censure and punishment. But, touching all this painful consequenceof his ill-nature, the merchant knew nothing. How rarely do webecome cognizant of the evil wrought upon others by our hasty andill-judged actions!The shadow was still on Mr. Abercrombie's feelings, when, half anhour afterward, a man came to him and said--"It will be impossible for me to lift the whole of that noteto-day.""You'll have to do it," was the quiet answer. Mr. Abercrombiefrowned darkly as he thus replied."Don't say that, Mr. Abercrombie. I only want help to the amount oftwo hundred dollars.""I do say it. You must raise the money somewhere else. I don't likethis way of doing business. When a man gives his note, he shouldmake it a point of honour to pay it.""Oh, very well," said the man. "I'm sorry if I've troubled you. I'llget the money from a friend. Good morning."And he turned off abruptly, and left the store. Mr. Abercrombie feltrebuked. He had a large balance in the bank, and could haveaccommodated him without the smallest inconvenience. In anotherstate of mind he would have done so cheerfully."O dear!" sighed the unhappy merchant, speaking mentally; "what hascome over me? I'm losing all control of myself. This will never,never do. I must set a guard upon my lips."And he did so. Conscious of his state of irritability, he subduedhis tones of voice, and restrained utterance when tempted to angryor inconsiderate speech. Not again during the day was he guilty ofsuch inexcusable conduct as in the instances mentioned; yet theshadow remained upon his feelings, strive as he would to throw offthe gloomy impression.It was late in the day when Mr. Abercrombie turned his stepshomeward. How little was he satisfied with himself! And now, when heremembered, with painful distinctness, the clouded brow of his wife,how little promise was there of home-sunlight, to dispel the gloomof his own feelings!As the hand of the merchant rested upon his own door, he almostdreaded to enter. He shrank from meeting that clouded visage. Theshadows were dark when he left in the morning, and experience toldhim that he need scarcely hope to find them dispelled. Happily,though still in the sky, the clouds were broken, and gleams ofsunshine came breaking through. Ah! if they had only possessedsufficient power to disperse the shadows that all day long had beengathering around the heart of Mr. Abercrombie! But that wasimpossible. Self-respect had been forfeited; and a consciousness ofhaving, in his impatient haste, acted unjustly, haunted histhoughts. And so, the shadows that were not to be dispersed by thefeeble sun-rays from the countenance of his wife, gradually diffusedthemselves, until the light that struggled with them grew pale."Did you know," said Mrs. Abercrombie, breaking in upon theoppressive silence that succeeded, after all had retired for thenight but herself and husband, "that the mother of Edward Wilson isvery poor and in a decline?""I was not aware of it," was the brief response."It is so. Mrs. Archer was here this afternoon, and was telling meabout them. Mrs. Wilson, who, until within a few weeks past, hasbeen able to earn something, is now so weak that she cannot leaveher bed, and is solely dependent on the earnings of her son. Howmuch do you pay him?""Only three dollars a week," answered Mr. Abercrombie, shading hisface with his hand."Only three dollars! How can they live on that? Mrs. Archer saysthat Edward is one of the best of lads--that he nurses his mother,and cares for her with unfailing tenderness; indeed, he is her onlyattendant. They are too poor to pay for the services of a domestic.Could you not afford to increase his wages?""I might, perhaps," said Mr. Abercrombie, abstractedly, stillshading his face."I wish you could," was the earnest reply. "It will be a realcharity."Mr. Abercrombie made no response; and his wife pursued the subjectno further. But the former lay awake for hours after retiring tobed, pondering the events of the day which had just closed.The sun had gone down amid clouds and shadows; but the morrow dawnedbrightly. The brow of Mrs. Abercrombie was undimmed as she met herfamily at the breakfast-table on the next morning, and everycountenance reflected its cheerful light. Even Mr. Abercrombie, whohad something on his conscience that troubled him, gave back hisportion of the general good feeling. Lighter far was his step as hewent forth and took his way to his store. His first act on hisarriving there, was, to ease his conscience of the pressure thereon,by sending for Edward Wilson, and restoring him to his place undernew and better auspices.And thus the shadows passed; yet, not wholly were they expelled. Theremembrance of pain abides long after the smarting wound has healed,and the heart which has once been enveloped in shadows, never losesentirely its sense of gloomy oppression. How guarded all should belest clouds gather upon the brow, for we know not on whose heartsmay fall their shadows.
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