A Letter of Credit Part 88

Rotha would have been greatly at a loss, however, about carrying on her inquiry, if it had not been for her "Treasury of Scripture Knowledge."

Turning to it now as to a most precious friend, she took the words in the psalm she had been reading for her starting place. And the very first next words she was directed to were these:--

"I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep; for thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in safety." Ps. iv. 8.

Rotha stopped and laid down her face in her hands. O if she could quietly say that! O what a life must it be, when any one can simply and constantly say that! "Lay me down and sleep"; give up the care of myself; feel secure. But in the midst of danger, how can one? Rotha thought she must be a poor, miserable fraction of a Christian, to be so far from the feeling of the psalm; and probably she was right. "If ye had faith as _a grain of mustard seed_," the Lord used to say to his disciples; so apparently in his view they had scarce any faith at all. And who of us is better? How many of us can remove mountains? Yet faith as big as a grain of mustard seed can do that. What must our faith be? Not quite a miserable sham, but a miserable fraction. Rotha felt self-reproved, convicted, longing; however she did not see how she was at once to become better. She lifted her eyes, wet with sorrowful drops, and went on. If there were help, the Bible must shew it. Her next pa.s.sage was the following:--

"It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows; for so he giveth his beloved sleep."--Ps. cxxvii. 2.

Studying this a good while, in the light of her fears and wants, Rotha came to a sense of the exquisite beauty of it; which wiser heads than hers, looking at the words merely in cool speculation, do fail to find.

She saw that the toiling and moiling of men pa.s.ses away from the Lord's beloved; that what those try for with so much pains and worry, these have without either; and in the absolute rest of faith can sleep while the Lord takes care. His people are quiet, while the world wear themselves out with anxiety and endeavour.

"His beloved."--I cannot have got to that, thought Rotha. I am not one of them. But I must be. That is what I want to be.

The next thing was a promise to the Israelites, as far back as Moses'

time; that if they kept the ways of the Lord, among other blessings of peace should be this: that they should lie down and none should make them afraid; but Rotha thought that hardly applied, and went further. Then she came to the word in the third of Proverbs, also spoken to the man who should "keep wisdom":--

"When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid; yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet."--Prov. iii. 24.

It set Rotha pondering, this and the former pa.s.sage. Is it because I am so far from G.o.d, then? because I follow and obey him so imperfectly? that I am so troubled with fear. Quite reasonable, if it is so. Naturally, the sheep that are nearest the shepherd, feel most of his care. What next? It gave her a stir, what came next: It was in the time of the early church; James, the first martyr among the apostles, had been beheaded by Herod's order; and seeing that this was agreeable to the fanatical Jews, he had apprehended Peter also and put him in ward; waiting only till the feast of the Pa.s.sover should be out of the way, before he brought him forth to execution. And it was the night preceding the day which should be the day of execution; "and the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains." Chained to a Roman soldier on one side of him, and to another on the other side of him, on no soft bed, and expecting a speedy summons to death, _Peter was sleeping_. All sorts of characters do sleep, it is said, the night before the day when they know they are to be put to death; in weariness, in despair, in stolid indifference, in stoical calmness, in proud defiance. But Rotha knew it was upon no such slumbers that the "light shined in the prison," and to no such sleeper that the angel of the Lord came, or ever does come. That was the sleep of meekness and trust.

The list of pa.s.sages given by the "Treasury" on that clause of the third psalm here came to an end. Rotha had not enough, however; she took up the words in the 6th verse--"I will not be afraid," etc. And then she came to the burst of confident triumph in the 27th psalm. And then,

"G.o.d is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea."--Ps. xlvi. 1, 2.

Here was a new feature. Trouble might come, yea, disaster; and yet the children of G.o.d would not fear. How that? Such absolute love, such perfect trust, such utter devotion to the pleasure of their Father, that what was his will became their will, and they knew no evil could really touch them? It must be so. O but this is a step further in the divine life. Or does this devotion lie also at the bottom of all those declarations of content and peace she had been reading? Rotha believed it must, after she had studied the question a little. O but what union with G.o.d is here; what nearness to him; what consequent lofty and sweet elevation beyond the reach of earthly trouble. Rotha got no further. She saw, in part at least, what she wanted; and falling on her knees there by the open window, she prayed that the peace and the life and the sweetness of the May might come into her heart, by the perfecting of love and faith and obedience there. She prayed for protection in her loneliness, and for the trust which saves from fear of evil. A great asking! but great need makes bold. She prayed, until it seemed as if she could pray no longer; and then she went back to her Bible again. But gradually there began to grow up a feeling in Rotha, that round the walls of her room there was an invisible rampart of defence which nothing evil could pa.s.s. And when one of her Bible references took her to the story of Elisha, shut up in a city enclosed by an army of enemies, but whose servant's eyes in answer to his prayer were opened to see "the mountain full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha"--her faith made a sort of spring.

She too seemed to have a sight of the invisible forces, mostly undreamed of because unseen, which keep guard around the Lord's people; and she bowed her head in a sort of exulting gladness. Why this was even better than to need no defence, to know that such defence was at hand. Without danger there could be no need of guard; and is not such unseen ministry a glorious companionship? and is it not sweeter to know oneself safe in the Lord's hand, than to be safe, if that could be, anywhere else?

I have learned one thing, said Rotha to herself, as she rose to make some final arrangements for the evening. I wonder if I came here partly to learn this? But what can I have been brought here for, indeed? There is some reason. There is the promise that everything shall work for good to them that love G.o.d; so according to that, my coming here must work good for me. But how possibly? What am I to do, or to learn, here? It must be one thing or the other. My learning in general seems to be stopped, except Bible learning. Well, I will carry that on. I shall have time enough. What else in all the world can I do?

Her unfinished calico dresses occurred to her. There was work for some days at least. Perhaps by that time she would know more. For the present, with a glad step and a lightened heart she went about her room, arranging certain things in what she thought the prettiest and most convenient way; got out some clothes, and even work; and then wished she had a book.

Where was she to get books to read? and how could she live without them?

This question was immediately so urgent that she could not wait to have it settled; she must go down without delay to Mrs. Purcell, and see if any information respecting it was to be had in that quarter.

CHAPTER XXV.

ROTHA'S REFUGE.

The kitchen was all "redd up," as neat as wax; everything in its place; and at the table stood Mrs. Purcell with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her arms in a great pan, hard at work kneading bread. She looked clean too, although her dress was certainly dilapidated; perhaps that was economy, though a better economy would have mended it. So Rotha thought. She did not at once start the business she had come upon; she stood by the table watching the bread-making operation. Mrs. Purcell eyed her askance. This woman had most remarkable eyes. Black they were, as sloes, and almond shaped; and they could look darker than black, and fiery at the same time; and they could look keen and sly and shrewd, and that is the way they looked out of their corners at Rotha now, with an element of suspicion. A little while without speech. She was kneading her dough vigorously; the large smooth ma.s.s rolling and turning under her strong wrists and fingers with quick and thorough handling.

"Isn't that rather hard work?" Rotha said.

"I think all work's hard," was the morose-sounding answer.

"Do you? But it would be harder not to do any."

"That's how folks looks at it. I'd rather eat bread than make it. There aint no fun in work. I'd like to sit down and have somebody work for me.

That's what you've been doin' all your life, aint it?"

"Not quite," said Rotha gravely.

"Can you make bread?"

"No."

"Then I s'pose you think I'll make your bread for you while you are here?"

"I do not think about it," said Rotha with spirit. "I have nothing to do with it. My aunt sent me here. If you cannot keep me, or do not wish to keep me, that is your affair. I will go back again."

"What did you come for?"

"I told you; my aunt was leaving home."

"Joe says, there's fish in the brook that'll jump at a fly made o'

muslin--but I aint that sort o' fish. I didn't engage to make no bread for Mis' Busby when I come here."

"Shall I write to my aunt, then, that it is not convenient for me to stay here."

"You can if you like, for it _aint_ convenient; but it's no use; for Mr.

Purcell don't care, and Mis' Busby don't care. I'll make all the bread you'll eat; I guess."

"What do Mrs. Busby and Mr. Purcell not care about?"

"They don't care whether I make bread all day, or not."

"I hope it will not be for long," said Rotha, "that I shall give you this trouble."

"I don't know how long it will be," said Mrs. Purcell, making out her loaves with quick dexterity and putting them in the pans which stood ready; "but I aint a fool. I can tell you one thing. Mis' Busby aint a fool neither; and when she pays anybody to go from New York here in the cars, it aint to pick her a bunch o' flowers and go back again."

Rotha was not a fool either, and was of the same opinion. This brought her back to her business.

"If I stay a while, I shall want to get at some books to read," she said.

"Are there any in the house?"

"Books?" said Mrs. Purcell. "I've never seen no books since I've been here."

"Where can I get some, then? Where are there any?"

"I don't know nothin' about books. I don't have no use for no books, my own self. I don't read none--'cept my 'little blue John.'"

"Your 'little blue John'? What is that?"

"I s'pose you have a big one."

"I do not know what you mean."