"Even now I seem to
hear those rosy lips utter their first sweet lisp,--'Dear brother.'"
"No wonder that you loved her, if she was even prettier than this!" I
exclaimed; "for I could lay down my life for such a sister."
"I did not love her," he answered, to our great surprise. "You are
astonished at the confession; but I am not sure that, affectionate as
you boys both seem, you either of you know what true love is. I was
proud of Louisa. When she was an infant I liked to hear her praises; and
as she grew more and more beautiful, and began to pour out the first
woman feelings of her guileless heart upon me, I received them with
gratitude, and really believed she was, what I called her, 'my heart's
treasure.'"
"Then why do you say that you did not love her?" I inquired,
hesitatingly.
"Because years have convinced me," he replied, "that I was even then,
what I have ever since been, one mass of selfishness. I never gave up a
single wish for her pleasure, or made one effort to add to her
happiness. Never say, my boys, that you love any one, till you find your
own will giving way to the desire to please them, and that you can
cheerfully renounce your most cherished plans for their sake."
As he said this, Bennie, I asked myself whether it could be true that I
did not even love my mother, and tried to think whether I had ever made
the least sacrifice of my will to her comfort. O, how many acts recurred
to my mind of selfish imposition upon her yielding gentleness! I am
afraid that we boys all take the kindness of our parents too much as a
matter of course, and do not often enough question ourselves whether we
are making any return for their love.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55