MARY'S DISAPPOINTMENT by Sallie V. Du Bois

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Aug 28, 1898

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 42.

MARY'S DISAPPOINTMENT.

By Sallie V. Du Bois

BY SALLIE V. DU BOIS.

"MARY, dear, I am so sorry for you," mamma said, "but your father is not willing that you should join the boating party to-day. He was in a moment ago to say that he thought the excursion would not be a safe one, and I was to bid you to remain at home."

"O mamma," said Mary, bursting into tears, "Lillie Lee and Annie Gray just called at the door, and they say that all the party intend going. Surely papa would not be so cruel."

"My dear, you know your father never willingly disappoints you, but delights to witness your happiness. But he has had great experience, and he is sure there is a storm not far off. He says that the boat would not be properly manned to meet a storm, and he is not willing that his daughter should incur such danger."

"But, mamma," Mary said, as she threw open the blinds, "see what a perfect morning it is. Why, I never saw fairer sunshine than this. Papa is mistaken, I am sure."

"And yet he must be obeyed, my dear daughter. I know something of the disappointment you are called upon to bear, but try to accept it like a Christian."

Mary watched from an upper window the boating party sail up the river, and turned away from the sight with tear-stained face. She took up a holiday book and tried to read, but threw it aside after making two or three vain attempts to become interested. She seated herself by the organ and prepared for a pleasant hour with her music, but after five minutes' idle dreaming, she shut the lid down with a bang that made mamma sigh.

"It is no use trying, mamma," she said; "I cannot interest myself in anything to-day. Papa was mistaken this time, after all my disappointment, for only see what a perfect day it is proving."

"I am not so sure of that, daughter. Take a look out of that western window."

Mary did look, and a startling sight greeted her eyes. In her vexation she had not noticed that the sky was overcast, but now she found the western horizon was one mass of misty clouds, with a play of forked lightning running through them.

"The storm promises to be very heavy, I think, dear; had you not better close the casement?"

While Mary was still in the act of closing the blinds, the terrific fall of water began, accompanied by gusts of wind.

"O mamma," she said, as she came over and threw herself on her knees by her mother's chair, "I wonder where they are!"

"They are under the care of the Heavenly Father, who holds the waters in the hollow of his hands."

As the storm increased, Mary hid her face in her mother's lap, and there they remained, holding silent communion with their God. Suddenly the door opened and Mary's father entered. He was a man of powerful frame, but it was shaken now with deep emotion.

"Oh, wife, daughter!" he said, "I have witnessed an awful sight. I was coming up the river ten minutes ago, when I saw the sailboat capsize, and heard the dying shrieks of the wretched excursionists. I was powerless to save them, and there was no one else in sight. My daughter, and you might have been among them!" Mary arose and encircled her father with her arms.

"All day," she said, "my heart has cherished bitter feelings because of my disappointment; but, oh, papa! I shall never forget the lesson taught me this day. There is one commandment which holds a new meaning for me now: 'Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.'"—Harbinger.