View source for Mr. Brownlee's Visitor

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<p>Mr. Brownlee felt comfortable. It was evening, and late in December. Outside, the wind had a cold, sharp whistle, and the snow, with which it was laden, had been weaving, since early morning, a shroud for the waning year. Within, the fireplace grate glowed, the gas burned brilliantly, wife smiled, and children played in happy unconsciousness of cold, or need, or suffering.<br><br>
Mr. Brownlee was in his pleasant sitting-room, the walls of which were hung with pictures, the windows draped with curtains, and the floor carpeted with soft Brussels carpets. He sat by a center table, on which were new books and the latest editions of the best monthlies.<br><br>
Now, all this was calculated to make a man feel comfortable; and Mr. Brownlee was entitled to what he enjoyed; for he was an honorable, intelligent, active, and successful merchant, a good citizen, a loving husband, and a wise and tender parent.<br><br>
"Wasn't that our bell?" Mr. Brownlee asked, looking up from the page of a book.<br><br>
"I think so," answered Mrs. Brownlee, and both listened as the waiter moved along the passage. A man's voice was heard.<br><br>
"I wouldn't wonder," said Mr. Brownlee, "if that were Mr. Lewis." There was a shade of dissatisfaction in his tones.<br><br>
"Mr. Lewis," said the waiter, entering the sitting-room a few moments afterwards.<br><br>
"Ask him to walk upstairs."<br><br>
The waiter retired. Mr. and Mrs. Brownlee looked at each other; but as their children were present, neither made any remark. But it was understood between them that the visit of Mr. Lewis was mutually regarded as something bordering on an <em>intrusion</em>. They were feeling very comfortable, as we have seen, shut in from the chilling wintry blasts, and with the most agreeable surroundings; and the presence of any stranger, just at that time, could scarcely help being unwelcome.<br><br>
"Good evening, Mr. Lewis." Mr. Brownlee's voice was kind, if not cordial.<br><br>
A man plainly, we might say coarsely dressed, entered the room. His manners were far from being polished; though his rather pale, care-worn face had in it many indications of a natural refinement.<br><br>
"Good evening," he responded, giving an awkward nod. "Good evening, ma'am," was added, with a nod, in turn, to Mrs. Brownlee. And then he came forwards and took the chair that was offered him, and drawing up to the grate, warmed himself.<br><br>
"Heavy storm this," remarked Mr. Brownlee.<br><br>
"Yes. The snow lies over a foot deep. But you are very comfortable here." And Mr. Lewis glanced around the pleasant room.<br><br>
"How is your wife today?" inquired Mrs. Brownlee.<br><br>
"Somewhat better, thank you, ma'am. I haven't been able to see her; but the nurse told me that she slept last night, and has less fever today. I feel very much encouraged. Oh, dear! If she only gets over it, I shall be so rejoiced!"<br><br>
"How many children have you?"<br><br>
"Four, ma'am; and the youngest is just about as old as that dear little girl now in your lap. Oh, dear! It was hard for her to be separated from her mother, but harder for the mother. I'm so in hopes she'll get safely over it soon. I talked with the doctor today; and he says that he's no doubt all will come out right."<br><br>
"I hope so, indeed," said Mrs. Brownlee, kindly.<br><br>
"How pleasant it is here!" and Mr. Lewis looked all around the room again. "And you are so happy in having all your children around you! Home is a blessed place — blessed, even though homely. Mine wasn't like this; but it was a happy home for all that."<br><br>
"Where are your children now?"<br><br>
"Scattered all around among relatives — -poor things! Since my wife's sickness, it's taken all I had saved, and all I could earn, to get her doctored. Oh, if they would cure her now, I shall be so happy!"<br><br>
"We will hope for the best," said Mr. Brownlee.<br><br>
"I always do that; but it has been hoping against hope for the last eight or nine months. The darkest hour, they tell us, is just before daybreak. So I comfort myself with thinking that the morning is very near."<br><br>
Mr. and Mrs. Brownlee were touched with the earnestness and simple pathos of their visitor, a poor man from the country, who had brought his wife to one of the city hospitals to be cured, if possible, of a disease that for a time threatened her life. Mr. Brownlee had met him by accident, and from kindness of heart, invited him to his house. Mr. Lewis had taken advantage of this invitation to drop in two or three times a week and enjoy the home comforts and the books and periodicals he found in Mr. Brownlee's pleasant sitting-room. He was not always an <em>entirely </em>welcome guest; and yet he was so simple-minded, so interested with the children, and manifested so much enjoyment in the books and magazines he found upon the center table, that neither Mr. Brownlee nor his wife could feel anything but <em>kindness </em>towards their <em>unsophisticated intruder</em>.<br><br>
On the present occasion, Mr. Lewis, after warming himself by the grate, talking for a time in his own peculiar way, and amusing himself with the children, took up a book, and was soon buried in its pages. Time went gliding by on swift wings, and Mr. Lewis took no notice. Nine o'clock came, and the last child was put to bed, but he went on turning the pages of the book in which he had become interested, wholly unconscious that the long evening had waned so far. Half-past nine found him still buried in its pages.<br><br>
Mr. Brownlee, who had for a time felt pleasure in the poor man's enjoyment of his comfortable surroundings, now began wishing him away.<br><br>
"I like to be hospitable," he said to himself, "but this is carrying things a little too far."<br><br>
Ten o'clock was rung out at last by the handsome French clock on the mantel-piece, but Mr. Lewis did not heed the warning.<br><br>
"This is a very interesting book," he said, about five minutes afterwards, looking at Mr. Brownlee, his mild face beaming with true enjoyment. "How pleasant it is here!" he added; and then his eyes went back to the page from which he had lifted them.<br><br>
Mr. Brownlee's heart softened towards the poor man, and yet he could not overcome a feeling of <em>annoyance </em>at his prolonged stay. He looked at his wife, and his wife looked at him — then they glanced mutually and meaningly at Mr. Lewis. Mrs. Brownlee yawned, and Mr. Brownlee yawned, rather loudly, in concert; but their guest was wholly oblivious. The fascination of the book was complete. Next, Mr. Brownlee got up, and commenced pacing the floor; he was too fidgety to sit still. He looked at the clock, the minute-hand of which was now almost at thirty, looked at Mr. Lewis, looked at his wife, knit his brows, and then walked on more rapidly than before. At last impatience spoke out.<br><br>
"Mr. Lewis," said he, "do you know how late it is?" Now, Mr. Brownlee tried to say this with some gentleness; but his real feelings came more fully into his voice than he was aware. It was plain, from the shadow that came instantly over the face of Mr. Lewis, as he closed the book, and let it fall upon the table, that he felt <em>rebuked</em>. His eyes glanced from the countenance of Mr. Brownlee to the clock on the mantel.<br><br>
"Half-past ten!" he said, in surprise. "I didn't dream of its being so late. Time passes much quicker here, I think, than it does in some other places. Good evening, sir! Good evening, ma'am! I shall remember your kindness as long as I live. I should not have stayed so late; but a book and this pleasant room made me forget myself. At the cheap tavern where I am staying, there is no place to sit down in, but the bar; and I don't like drinking, smoking, and swearing. I walk the streets half of the evening, sometimes; but tonight it was too stormy. Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am."<br><br>
And Mr. Lewis turned away, and went forth into the blinding storm, to walk nearly half a mile before gaining his dreary lodging-place.<br><br>
"Poor man!" there was <em>pity </em>in the voice of Mrs. Brownlee.<br><br>
"And yet," said Mr. Brownlee, speaking in answer to the words of Mr. Lewis, rather than to those of his wife, "I gave him <em>grudgingly </em>of my home-comforts, and allowed a weak, selfish annoyance — while he was drinking in pleasure at every source! What a storm it is!" Mr. Brownlee glanced towards the window, against which had come the snow-laden blast with a heavier rush. "And I have sent this poor man forth to meet its wintry chill, with a pressure on his feelings. A little more Christian patience, a little more consideration, a little more unselfish pleasure in sharing my good gifts with him — would have made his spirit lighter, and mine also. Kindness, humanity, regard for others — ever bear a double blessing; the lack of them as surely lays upon our hearts a double burden. I was never more conscious of this than now. I will try not to forget the lesson. The lighting of another's candle at ours, should never dim its radiance, as it has dimmed mine tonight."<br>
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