ATONEMENT FOR INJUSTICE
IN THE MEANTIME, THE COUNT AND Countess, and the other ladies and gentlemen of their party, were assembled in the great drawing room. According to the old German fashion, this room was hung with very fine tapestry, on which was depicted, with great art and skill, a succession of hunting scenes, with huntsmen, dogs, horses, stags, and wild boars. Notwithstanding the great antiquity of this tapestry, the colors were still bright and fresh, and when the room was lighted up in the evening it had a very fine effect.
The good minister of Erlenbrünnen was among the party assembled there that evening. According to the Countess Amelia's request, he had gone to the hunting lodge to relieve her mother's mind about her long absence, when she went to find Mary, and he had been invited to remain to supper. He had been hearing from the Countess, with much interest, a similar account to that which Amelia had been giving to Mary, and he had related to her in return many little circumstances which interested her most deeply about good old James, his blameless and useful life, and his happy death.
When he told of Mary's patience in affliction, her unwearied care of her father, her industry, her activity, her gentleness, and her most unmerited sufferings since her father's death, he brought tears to the eyes of all who heard him and prepared them all to receive Mary with the utmost kindness.
When the Countess Amelia entered the drawing room, leading in Mary with one hand and carrying in the other the basket of flowers, all the company gathered round them, and Mary was welcomed by all present.
The Count took her kindly by the hand and said, "Poor girl, how pale and thin you look! It grieves me to see you look so ill, especially when I remember that it was our rash judging and too hasty decision which has made you suffer and changed you so fearfully. Pardon us, and we will do all we can to bring the roses back to your cheeks and to make you like yourself again. We drove you unjustly from your old home, but now it shall be your own property. I give you the house where you formerly lived and the garden and orchard you were so fond of. My secretary shall draw out a deed of gift; I will sign it this very evening, and Amelia shall have the pleasure of presenting it to you."
The Countess kissed Mary, and taking from her finger the ring which had caused so much sorrow, she pressed it into Mary's hand, saying kindly, "My dear Mary, you do not need gold and jewels, for your ornaments are of a much more valuable kind; but notwithstanding, it will give me pleasure if you will accept this ring and keep it as a mark of my affection for you, and of my earnest wish to make any compensation in my power for the injustice we have done you. Though it is of no use to you as an ornament, it may serve at least as a token of our gratitude for the proof of your innocence. Mary, and if a time comes when you require a dowry, and when money would be more valuable to you, I promise to redeem it then for more than its value."
Mary was so overcome by all she had gone through that day—her fatigue and misery at the farm, her anguish in the churchyard, and the sudden and overwhelming change to hope and joy and happiness—that she could not utter one word. It seemed as if she were hesitating to accept the Countess's gift.
"Take the ring, my good girl," said one of the stranger gentlemen; "never refuse a generous gift. The noble Countess has a benevolent heart, and she is rich enough to indulge her kindly feelings."
"Do not flatter me, Baron," said the Countess; "it is not generous in you to do so. We do not desire to be called benevolent for what we are now doing. What we do for Mary is simply justice, not generosity. We have done a public act of injustice, of which I cannot think without shame, and our honor and our peace of mind require that it should be publicly acknowledged and atoned for."
Poor Mary, uncertain what to do, confused and bewildered, held in her hand the beautiful ring, and looking round the party for her kind friend and adviser, the good old minister, she seemed to ask him, with her expressive eyes, whether she should take it or not.
"Yes, Mary," said the worthy man, kindly replying to her mute question. "It is right for you to accept this gift. It was the cause of your sorrow; it will be the public pledge of your entire acquittal. It would hurt the Countess if you were to refuse what she has offered so kindly. Take it then, my child; and may God grant that you may be as gentle, humble, and pious in prosperity as you have been patient, meek, and resigned in adversity."
Mary hesitated no longer and gently kissed the Countess's hand, but she could not speak for tears. The Countess Amelia had been a delighted spectator of the whole scene. Her eyes sparkled with joy at seeing her parents so kind to Mary.
The minister noticed this with approbation. He had too often seen the envious spirit with which young people sometimes hear the praises of others, especially from their own parents. But not one spark of envy or jealousy was cherished by the amiable Amelia. She was quite willing to take the second place and allow Mary to engross the attention of all the company, forgetting herself entirely, and thinking only of Mary.
Is this always the case with you, young reader? Do you rejoice as much when your companion is praised as if you yourself were the object of attention? Can you be glad when another gains a prize? When another attracts more attention than you do? When another is more admired, more successful, more esteemed? Have you learned to act on the Scripture rule, "Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others" (Phil. 2:44Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. (Philippians 2:4))? Have you learned the true sympathy which the Bible teaches? Do you "rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep" (Rom. 1:2:1 5)?