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But what of that! had she not secured this bit of rosy radiance, and might it not in time be added to, until it should incarnadine the whole fabric of her life? Semantha's father was dead; her mother was living worse luck.
Ah! when you find a fiercely violent temper allied to a stone-cold heart, offer you up an earnest prayer to Him for the safety of the souls coming under the dominion and the power of that woman. I recall one action of Semantha's that goes far, I think, to prove what a brave and loyal heart the untaught German girl possessed.
So far as one person can be the cause of another person's wrong-doing, so far was Semantha's mother the guilty cause of Semantha's loving fall. She was a heathen. She had been taught just one law that she was always to serve other people. That law she truly kept unto the end. Of that great book, the Bible, closely packed with all sustaining promises, she knew naught.
Her mother would not be loved, her own father had wisely given the whole thing up, her step-father dared not be loved. So, when the second family began to materialize, Semantha's joy knew no bounds. What a welcome she gave each newcomer! How she worked and walked and cooed and sang and made herself an humble bond-maiden before them.
Many a woman of quick, short temper has a kind heart; while even the sullenly sulky woman generally has a few rich, sweet drops of the milk of human kindness, which she is willing to bestow upon her own immediate belongings. But Semantha's mother was not of these. How, one might ask, had this wretch obtained two good husbands?
Then for the first time, and I honestly believe the last time in her life, that other pretty blond, but woolly-brained, young woman rose to the occasion God bless her and answered stoutly, "No, Clara never thought you were stealing." So it happened that when I returned to work, and Semantha's excited and very German welcome had been given, I noticed a change in her.
And as I only gazed dumbly at her, she went on, while slow tears gathered in her eyes, "My mutter hasn't let me love her since since I vas big enough to be knocked over." Through the talkativeness of an extra night-hand or scene-shifter, who knew her family, I learned something of poor Semantha's private life.
That same sad night a group of men, close-guarded, travelled to Columbus, that city of great prisons and asylums, and one of those guarded men was poor Semantha's lover, alas! her convicted lover now; and she, having cast from her her proudest hope, her high ambition, trusting a little in his innocence, trusting entirely in his love, now followed him steadily to the prison's very gate.
They were scarcely of a nature to be repeated to young children after they had gone to bed, that is, if you wanted the children to stay in bed; but they were interesting, and one day the talk was of odd names, his own was funny, and at last he mentioned Semantha's. Of course I was alert, of course I questioned him how often I have wished I had not. For the tale he told was sad.
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