Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 23

Nothing could have been farther from Christie's thoughts than any intention of teaching. She did not dream how strange and new to her listener were the blessed truths that were beginning to present themselves so vividly to her own mind. She would have shrunk from the thought of presuming to teach, or even to suggest new trains of thought.

In ordinary circ.u.mstances she might have found it difficult to converse long on any subject with Mrs Lee. But watching and anxiety, shared in the chamber over which hangs the shadow of a great dread, soon break down the barriers of reserve which a difference of age or position raises; and there seemed no inappropriateness in the grave, earnest words that now and then fell from the lips of the little maid. Indeed, weak in body and exhausted in mind as the troubles of the winter and spring had left her, Mrs Lee found positive rest and refreshment in the society which might at another time have seemed unsuitable; and mingled with the grat.i.tude with which she saw Christie's devotion to the sick child was a feeling of respect and admiration for the character which was gradually developing before her eyes.

How long the days and nights seemed! Little Harry's robust frame and fine const.i.tution availed him little. The fever raged with great violence; and the close of the week found the doctor still in doubt as to how it might end with him. His mother's strength and hopefulness had held out wonderfully till this time; but when the baby, the fair and fragile little Ellinor, was stricken down, faith, strength, and courage seemed to fail her. It was not long, however. The child's need gave the mother strength; and the baby needed nothing long. The other children were sent away to a friend's house in the country; and silence, broken only by the moans of the little ones or the hushed voices of their anxious nurses, reigned through the house, lately echoing to far other sounds.

Before three silent days had pa.s.sed, the mother knew that her baby must die. In the presence of her unutterable sorrow Christie was mute. The awe which fell upon her in the dread presence left her no words with which to comfort the stricken mother. But in her heart she never ceased through all that last long night to pray, "G.o.d comfort her."

And she _was_ comforted. Though her tears fell fast on the folded hands of her child as she said the words, they were humbly and reverently spoken:

"'Thy will be done.' It would have been harder to leave my child than to let her go!--and now one of my darlings is safe from all sorrow for ever!"

The father came home just in time to lay his little daughter in the grave; and then both father and mother sat down to wait. For what? For the gradual return of the rose to the cheek and the light to the eye of little Harry? Alas, no! It was not to be. A keener pang was to pierce the heart of the stricken mother. For to part with little Harry was a far harder trial to antic.i.p.ate than even the loss of her baby had been to bear. But day by day it became more apparent to all that Harry's end was hastening. The fever went away, but there seemed to be no power to rally in the little worn-out frame of the child. His father, for a little while, spoke hopefully of a change of air, and the sea-side; but he could not long so cheat himself with false hopes. The restlessness and irritability, which they had said to one another were hopeful signs, pa.s.sed away. His smiles were more languid and constrained, and he soon failed to recognise the anxious, loving friends who ministered to his wants.

Before this the mother's strength had quite failed; and the father, unused to the sight of suffering, shrank from looking on the last agony of his child. Through all his illness the little boy had clung to Christie--never quite at rest, even in the arms of his mother, unless his Christie was near. Her voice had soothed him, her hands had ministered to his comfort, her care had been lavished on him, through all those lingering days and nights. And now it was Christie who met his last smile and listened to his last murmured "Good-night!" Yes, it was Christie who closed his eyes at last, and straightened his limbs in their last repose. She helped to robe him for the grave, and to lay him in his little coffin; and all the time there was coming and going through her mind a verse she had learned long ago--

"Now, like a dew-drop shrined Within a crystal stone, Thou'rt safe in heaven, my dove; Safe in the arms of Jesus, The everlasting One!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

And now a sad silence fell on the household. The children were not to be brought home for some time, the doctor said; and their mother was not able to go to them; so Christie was left to the almost unbroken quiet of her forsaken nursery. She needed rest more than she was aware, and sank into a state of pa.s.sive indifference to all things which would have alarmed herself had not her kind friend, Mrs Greenly, been there to insist that she should be relieved of care till her over-tasked strength should be in some measure restored. In those very quiet hours, thoughts of home came to her only as a vague and shadowy remembrance. The events of the winter, and even the more recent sufferings of the last month, seemed like a dream to her. Dearly as she had loved her little charges, she was hardly conscious of regret at their loss. It seemed like something that had happened long ago--their long suffering and departure. The very promises which had of late become so sweet to her, soothed her merely as a pleasant sound might do. She scarcely took note of their meaning or power during those days.

But this soon pa.s.sed away, and with returning strength came back with double force the old longing to go home. She had sent a line to Effie when little Harry was taken ill, telling her how utterly impossible it would be for her to leave her place. Since then, about the time of the baby's death, a neighbour had called, and by him she had sent the same message, a.s.suring her sister that she was quite content to stay. But her old eagerness to get home came back, now that she found herself with little to occupy her, and she waited anxiously for the time when Mrs Lee might be spoken to on the subject.

In the meantime, Mrs Greenly was called away, and the duty of attendance upon Mrs Lee once more devolved on Christie. If anything could have banished from her heart all thought of home or all wish for change, the days that followed would have done so. Not an hour pa.s.sed in which she was not made to feel that she was a comfort to her friend-- for _friends_, in the highest sense, the mistress and her little maid were fast becoming. The readings and conversations which had been begun during their long watches together were renewed; and blessed seasons they proved to both. Christie never knew--never could know on earth-- all the good she did Mrs Lee in those days. She was only conscious of an ever-increasing love for her and an ever-increasing desire to serve her.

If in the first agony of her bereavement there had been in the mother's heart murmuring and rebellious thoughts, they were all stilled now.

With more than the submission of a chastened child--with joy that had in it a sense of reconciliation and acceptance--she was enabled to kiss the Hand that had smitten her. She seldom spoke of her children; but when she did, it was with grat.i.tude that they had been hers, and were still hers, in heaven. Seen by the new light that was dawning on her soul, the world, its hopes and fears and interests, looked to her very different. Humble submission and cheerful trust took the place of her old, anxious forebodings. Scripture truths, which formerly conveyed no distinct idea to her mind, came home to her now with power. They were living truths, full of hope and comfort. The promises were to her a place of rest and refuge--a strong tower, into which she could run and be safe. By slow degrees the light of the glorious Gospel of Jesus Christ dawned upon her soul; and to one fearful and doubtful of the future, as she had been, what blessed rest and refreshment was in the trust, that gradually grew strong, in the embrace of an Arm mighty to save! To know herself one of those to whom Jesus has given a right to say, "I will fear no evil, for _Thou_ art with me," was all that she needed for her consolation; and during those days the blessed knowledge came to her.

What part the simple words and earnest prayers of her little nurse had in bringing about this blessed change, G.o.d knows. The girl herself had little thought of the good which her entrance into the household had wrought. It might have helped her to a more patient waiting had she known how often her name was mingled with the thankful praises of Mrs Lee. She was not impatient, but a longing for home that would not be stilled mingled with the gladness that filled her heart at the thought of being useful.

Summer had come. June was half over, and the only glimpse of green she had had was the top of the mountain, far-away. Now and then Nelly brought home from the market a bunch of garden-flowers. But the sight of them only made her long the more for the fields where so many flowers that she knew had blossomed and faded unseen. More than once, when sent out by Mrs Lee to take the air, she had tried to extend her walk in one direction or another, till she should reach the country. But partly because she did not know the way, and partly because she grew so soon weary, she never succeeded. She had to content herself with the nearest street where there were trees growing, and now and then a peep through open gateways upon little dusty strips of gra.s.s or garden-ground.

Oh, how close and hot and like a prison the long, narrow streets seemed to her! How weary the street-noises made her! It was foolish, she knew, and so she told herself often, to vex herself with idle fancies.

But sometimes there came back to her, with a vividness which for the moment was like reality, the memory of familiar sights and sounds.

Sometimes it was the wind waving the trees, or the ripple of the brook over the stepping-stones; sometimes it was the bleating of the young lambs in the pastures far-away. She caught glimpses of familiar faces in the crowd, as she used to do in the home-sick days when she first came; and she could not always smile at her folly. Sometimes her disappointment would send her home sad and dispirited enough. Almost always the smile that met her as she entered Mrs Lee's room brought back her content; but often it needed a greater effort to be cheerful than an on-looker could have guessed. Still, the effort was always made, and never without some measure of success.

One morning she rose more depressed than usual. A quiet half-hour with her little Bible was not sufficient to raise her spirits, though she told herself it ought to be; and she said to herself, as she went down-stairs, "I will speak to-day about going home."

Mrs Lee was able to go down-stairs now. On this particular day a friend was to visit her, and Christie determined to say nothing about the matter till the visitor should be gone. But the prospect of a long day in the solitary nursery did not tend to brighten her face, and it was sadly enough that she went slowly down the street on an errand for Nelly when breakfast was over.

She did not look up to-day in her usual vain search for a "kenned face,"

or she would never have pa.s.sed by the corner so unheedingly. A pair of kind eyes, for the moment as grave and sad as her own, watched her as she came on, and after she pa.s.sed. In a little while a very gentle hand was laid on her shoulder.

"What's your haste, Christie, my la.s.sie?"

With a cry she turned to clasp the hand of John Nesbitt. Poor little Christie! She was so glad, so very glad! It was almost like seeing Effie herself, she told him, amid a great burst of tears that startled the grave John considerably. For a moment her sobs came fast. The open streets and the wondering pa.s.sers-by were quite forgotten.

"Whisht, Christie, my woman," said John, soothingly, "that's no' the way we show our gladness in Glengarry."

Drawing her hand under his arm, he held it firmly in his own. Christie made a great effort to control herself, and the face which she soon turned towards her friend had grown wonderfully brighter for the tears that fell.

"Effie bade me notice how you looked and what you said; and I'm afraid she'll no' be pleased to hear that I got such a tearful welcome," said John, with his grave smile.

"Oh, Effie will understand. Why, it's almost like seeing Effie herself to see you, John!" she repeated, giving him a tearful smile. She felt sure it was a true friend's hand that pressed hers so warmly as she spoke.

"But where are you going, Christie?" asked John.

"Oh, I forgot; we are past the place." But her face grew grave in a moment. "When did you come, John? and how long are you going to stay?"

"I came yesterday, and I shall stay no longer than I can help. I have had enough of this dusty town for once. I wonder how you ever stayed so long in it, Christie."

"I wonder myself, whiles," she said gravely; "but it won't be long now."

"Are they better at your house? Will they spare you to go home with me?"

"There is no one ill now. Did you hear--" But Christie's voice was lost in the remembrance of little Harry and the baby.

"Yes, we heard. You must have had a sad time, poor la.s.sie! But the remembrance of these precious little ones cannot be altogether sorrowful, Christie?"

"No; oh, no, indeed!" But she could say no more. As they drew near the house, she added:

"And shan't I see you again, John?"

"Ay, la.s.s, that you will. I'm by no means done with you yet. Are you busy to-day? because I would like your help. I promised to get some things for my mother, and I'm not good at choosing. Will you come with me? Do you think you can be spared?"

"I don't know. I should like it. I can ask."

In a minute she returned, with a face made radiant by Mrs Lee's cheerful consent to spare her for as much of the day as she pleased; and it was arranged that John should call for her in half an hour.

If anything could have marred the delight with which her preparations were made, the sight of her faded bonnet and shawl might have done so.

The rain and the snow had wet them, the sun had done its work on them, and the wind had taken liberties with them, many a time. And besides, they seemed too hot and heavy for such a summer day, even if they had not been shabby and grey. For Christie had had other things to think about of late than the getting of summer garments. Just for a minute a wish that they had been newer and fresher-looking, for John's sake, came to her mind. It was only for a moment that she thought about it at all.

"For John cares little for such things," she said to herself; "and there's no matter for the shop-people and the rest."

She was right. Looking into the brightened face that met him at the door, John failed to discover that the bonnet above it was dingy and brown. And if the rustiness of the little shepherd's-plaid shawl that covered her shoulders marred in any degree the pleasure with which he drew her hand beneath his friendly arm, he gave no token that it did so.

Christie gave a little sigh of satisfaction as she found herself out on the street once more.

"I have got so many things to ask about," she said; "but I suppose I may as well wait till we have done with the shops. If I once begin, I'm afraid I shan't be able to attend to anything else."

The purchases were soon made. Indeed, Mrs Nesbitt's commissions had not been very extensive. Christie had more to do on her own account.

But she had planned so many times just what she was to get for each one at home, that it did not take her long to choose. Besides, her purse was not one of the fullest. Still, the little she had to do involved a good deal of running here and there; and her parcels increased in number and size to such an extent, that Christie at last said, laughing, she would have to forego the pleasure of taking them home herself, as her box would never hold half of them; John would need to try to find room for them in his.

"And are you not afraid they may call you extravagant at home, getting so many braw things?"

Christie laughed.