upon it as lent for our present use and our present joy; and if we must soon—my children and I—live close, and in a mean style, in some street or cottage, we can be content while we live in the brightness of love and a quiet conscience. I do not doubt my children, Richard.”
As Richard was silent, his father-in-law looked in his face.
Richard had no doubt of the dutifulness, on any hand, nor of the affection of the whole family towards their father. But, of the domestic harmony and the quiet conscience he could not be sure when he thought of Henrietta. He told all that had passed at Port Eliot; and a great gravity passed over the calm and benign countenance of Mr. Hampden as be listened. His remark at the close was that there was always something to fear when a lively and jesting spirit in a man was married to a lively and romantic spirit in a woman: but the peril was in themselves; and whether their temptation seemed to come from a public conflict between liberty and prerogative, or from the trifling incidents of every-day life, was of less consequence than might appear. The young couple loved each other, so that no parent could think of separating them. If they should at length find their two modes of loyalty irreconcilable, they must preserve their loyalty to each other by withdrawing from the scene of strife. This had been in his mind, Mr. Hampden said, when he entered so largely into the scheme of Lord Say and Sele, and Lord Brook, of a settlement in the Isle of Providence. At Saybrook, which would have become a town in another year, Harry and his wife would find scope for their great energies, without excuse for domestic disagreement when so far from the war of tyranny on the one hand, and discontent on the other. He thanked Richard for his warning, which he accepted, he said, as an injunction to watch over his noble-hearted child as father and mother in one. When he dismissed his son-in-law to his short rest (for the dawn was already in the sky), he hinted to him, with a smile, that if Henrietta seemed to engross a large share of his anxiety and tenderness, it was because of the need in her case. In Margaret he had a friend, on whom his heart and mind might repose. Unbroken contentment was the blessing which she conferred. Her father and her husband might speak of this together, though the privilege was too sacred to be easily discussed with others.
Thus, with full but tranquil hearts, they parted for the short remainder of the night.
Margaret was not to be persuaded to stay behind her husband. She preferred the fatigue to separation; and by the time the household assembled for worship, she and Richard were some miles on their way to Fawsley.
DEACONESS LIFE IN GERMANY.
I have been for some years past interested in the work of the Sisters of Charity, in connection with the Church of Rome, and admired their zeal and activity, their devotion to the poor and sick, their unflagging patience, and self-denying exertions under all circumstances. I could not but regret that so much that was really good and useful had died out of the churches, calling themselves Reformed. But I was at that time ignorant of the order of Deaconesses, now so widely diffused through Germany, and indeed through almost every country of the Continent.
These Deaconesses consider that they belong to the primitive arrangements of the early church, and date their commencement from the apostolic age. Very soon, however, the state of war and disturbance in the Western Empire prevented women from exercising any duty, even of charity, without the protection of closed doors and walls; so the Deaconesses became cloistered sisters, and their distinctive characteristics were lost.
An attempt was made at the Reformation to revive the order of Deaconesses; but again the wars in Germany, and the lawless state of society, made it impossible. It was only thirty years ago that Professor Fliedner drew together at Kaiserwerth a few women for charitable works; and from this small beginning revived this most useful order, which from such an insignificant commencement has now spread itself all over Europe.
My first acquaintance with the practical life of the Deaconesses was in the autumn of 1859, when I passed a short time in one of their houses in the Grand Duchy of Baden. Their little establishment was not then of very long standing, but it had passed through the infancy of its existence, and was at that time in full vigour and great activity. The house stands outside the town of K, in a garden, so as to secure fresh air for the sick, and greater liberty for the sisters. It was then quite new, and every arrangement for the comfort of the patients had been most carefully attended to.
The elevation of the Deaconess House is not very tasteful, but the outward impression is effaced on opening the door, the inside view presents an aspect of such order, cleanliness, and comfort. A peaceful atmosphere pervades the whole house, and seems to impress itself not only upon the inhabitants but on all who enter it. Its internal arrangements resemble much those in all conventual houses of charity among the Roman Catholics; but neither mystery nor concealment exists among the Deaconesses: all is fair and open, well fitted to stand the test of daylight and inspection.
On one side of the entrance is the Sister Superior’s room, a very neat apartment, where visitors are received, and where the meetings of their committee to settle the financial affairs of the establishment are held. Opposite to this room is the refectory, or common room, where the sisters sit and work if they are not otherwise occupied, and where meals are served. It is a long, large room, with a bay window at one end; according to our ideas very badly furnished. There is no carpet on the floor: a long table runs down the middle, and there are a few others of various sizes in the windows; the Sister Superior’s writing desk, and the necessary number of chairs, complete the furniture. The first impression on entering the room is admiration of its delicate and, if one may use the expression, its tasteful neatness. One adornment it does possess: every
