Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 3

"Do you think so?" said Mr Craig, with a smile. "I don't think it is a harder life than most of the people that I see are living. No harder than the farmers have during this busy harvest-time. No harder than the pedlars of tin-ware and dry goods have, that go about the country in all weathers."

"But it's different with the farmer, who tills his own land. He is working to some end. Every tree he cuts, every sheaf he reaps and gathers in, is so much gain to him; and even these pedlars must have a measure of enjoyment when their sales are good. They are gaining their living by their travels."

"Well, so am I, for that matter," said Mr Craig, still smiling. "I am on equal terms with them there; though I cannot say that the greatest part of the pleasure I have in my work arises from the gain it is to me.

But why do you say it is a thankless work?"

Instead of answering directly, Aunt Elsie asked, a moment after:

"Are you always well received,--you and your books?"

"Oh, yes; in this part of the country, always,--quite as well as other pedlars are, and sometimes far better, for my work's sake. I have been in places where the reception I met with was something worse than cold.

But I now and then met, even in those places, some that welcomed me so warmly for the work's sake I was doing as to make me little heed the scoffs of the others."

"You are sent out by a society, I think?" said Aunt Elsie. "It is mostly Bibles that you sell?"

"Yes; it's mostly Bibles that I carry with me."

There was a pause. The colporteur sat looking into the red embers, with the smile on his face which Christie had found so attractive. In a little while Aunt Elsie, not without some hesitation, said:

"And is all the time and trouble and money spent by this society worth their while?"

Aunt Elsie would have been shocked had any one expressed a doubt of her sincere respect for the Bible. Her respect was hereditary. Not one day in her childhood or womanhood had pa.s.sed in which she had not heard or read some portion of the Holy Book. Nothing could have induced her to part with one of the several Bibles that had been in her possession for years. One had been hers when a girl at school, one had lain in her seat at the kirk for many a year, and a third had lain on her parlour-table and been used by her at family worship when she kept house for herself. It would have seemed to her like sacrilege to let them pa.s.s into other hands. That the superiority of the Scottish people over all other nations (in which superiority she firmly believed) was in some way owing to the influence of G.o.d's Word, read and understood, she did not doubt. But her ideas of the matter were by no means satisfactory even to herself. That the Bible, read and understood, should ever change the mixed mult.i.tudes of her new and adopted country into a people grave and earnest and steadfast for the right, was altogether beyond her thought. The humble labours of this man, going about from house to house, to place perhaps in careless or unwilling hands the Bible (G.o.d's Word though she acknowledged it to be), seemed a very small matter--a means very inadequate to the end desired. So it was a doubtful and hesitating a.s.sent that she yielded to the reply of Mr Craig in the form of a question.

"Is not G.o.d's Word His appointed instrument for the salvation of men?

And will He not bless it to that end? I do not doubt it," continued Mr Craig. "How can I doubt it, in the face of the promise that His word shall not return unto Him void--that it _shall_ prosper in that whereunto He sendeth it? I never let a Bible pa.s.s from my hands without asking from G.o.d that it may be made the means of a lasting blessing to at least one soul. And I have faith to believe that my prayer will be heard and granted."

Aunt Elsie's motions expressed some surprise.

"And is not that presumption on your part?" she asked.

"Which? The prayer, or the expectation?" said Mr Craig. "Not the prayer, surely, when He says, 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find.' 'Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, believing, ye shall receive.' 'Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.' Is it presumption to ask blessings for those whom G.o.d so loved that He sent His only begotten Son into the world to die that they might live? 'Will He not with Him also freely give them all things?' Truly, I think the presumption would lie in _not_ asking, or in asking and not expecting to receive."

In the pause that followed, Christie, with a strange feeling at her heart, pondered the words.

"Well," said Aunt Elsie, in a moment, "I dare say it is as well that you have these thoughts to encourage you. The Bible can do n.o.body harm, at any rate; and it may do good to the bairns at the school."

Mr Craig opened his lips, as though he were going to answer her; but he did not. By and by he said--quite as much as though he were speaking to himself as to her:

"Yes; it is indeed a good thing to have G.o.d's promise to fall back upon.

My work would be vain and weary work without that. And so would any work to which I could put my hand. There _are_ folk in the world who live with no hope or trust in G.o.d's promised blessing. How they do it I cannot tell."

"G.o.d is good to many a one who thinks little of Him or of His care; or what would become of the world and the thousands in it?" said Aunt Elsie, with a sigh.

Mr Craig gave her a quick look.

"Yes: He is kind to the evil and the unthankful. But I was thinking of the blessedness of those who have the daily and hourly sense of G.o.d's presence with them and His fatherly care over them. In time of trouble, and at all times, indeed, it is sweet to know that we have His word and promise for all that we possibly need."

"Yes," said Aunt Elsie, uneasily, and rather coldly. "There is much truth in what you say."

Mr Craig continued: "There is no fear of being forgotten. He who sees the sparrow when it falls, and does not forget to number the hairs of our heads, may well be trusted. And may we not trust in Him who is not ashamed to call His people brethren? Our Elder Brother! He who suffered being tempted--who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities! It is worth while to have His promise to fall back upon-- for me in my journeys, for you amid your household cares, and for this little maiden here amid whatever life may bring to her."

In the interest with which she listened, Christie had forgotten her shyness, and had drawn quite near; and now she sat with her eyes fastened on the good man's face, her own quite expressive of intense eagerness.

"Christie," said her aunt, as her eye fell upon her, "it is high time you were in bed. There will be no getting you up in the morning. Your sisters are all asleep. Haste away."

Christie would have given much for courage to ask one question; and perhaps a glance into the kind face that was looking down upon her might have given it to her, had her aunt not been there. Perhaps he guessed her thought; for he said, as he put out his hand and laid it softly on hers:

"Yes, my la.s.sie; it is not beyond belief that the kind care and the loving eye of this Elder Brother should be over you, if you are one of His little ones. Are you?"

The last words were spoken after a momentary pause, and the little brown hand was gently pressed as they were uttered. If Christie could have found words with which to answer him, she could not have uttered them through the tears and sobs that had not been far from her all the evening. Slowly obeying the admonishing touch of her aunt, she withdrew her hand from the gentle pressure that detained it, and crept away in the dark to the room where all her sisters, except Effie, were already asleep.

And what a tumult of glad, wondering and doubtful thoughts was stirring her heart as she seated herself on the floor and leaned her weary head upon her hand! Could it all be true? Did G.o.d see and hear and care for people? And for her too? The Elder Brother! What a sweet name to give to Jesus! It seemed easier to believe that He would care for her, calling Him by that name.

And if it were really true that G.o.d heard her prayers and would answer them, certainly things would not go so badly with her any more. But was she one of His little ones? Surely there was no one more helpless and hopeless and troubled--n.o.body that needed help more!

"Oh, if I could only be sure!" she whispered. "But I'll see to-night.

Aunt Elsie wasna vexed to-night. And if Effie has brought me the book, I'll take it for a sign. Oh, I wish she would come!"

And yet, when Effie came in with a light in her hand, Christie was in no haste to speak. Effie moved about very quietly, for fear of waking her sisters; and then she sat down, shading the light from their faces.

"Haste you, Christie dear," she whispered. "I thought you were in bed.

It is more than time."

Christie slowly undressed, and after kneeling a little while, laid herself down on the low bed beside her little sister. But she did not sleep. She did not even close her eyes, but lay watching sometimes the motionless figure of Effie and sometimes her shadow on the wall, wondering all the while what could keep her occupied so silently and so long. Yet when at last the book was closed and Effie began to move about the room, she could not find courage to speak to her at once.

"Effie," she said, by and by, "did you bring me the book you promised?"

Effie started.

"Christie, I thought you were asleep! Do you know how late it is?"

"Did you bring me the book you promised?" repeated the child, eagerly.

Effie could not resist the beseeching face; and she came and seated herself on the side of the bed.

"I wanted it so much," continued Christie. "I thought you would bring it! Did you forget it? Or were you not up there this week?"

"I was there, and I didna forget it; but--"

"Did you bring it?" cried Christie, rising, in her eagerness. "Where is it?"

Effie shook her head.

"I didna bring it, Christie."

Poor little Christie! She laid herself back on her pillow without a word. The disappointment was a very bitter one; and she turned her face away, that her sister might not see the tears that were gushing from her eyes. She had all the week been looking forward to the pleasure of having a book--"The Scottish Chiefs"--a stolen glance or two of which had excited her interest to the highest degree; and the disappointment was great. But that it should have failed to come on this particular night was harder still to bear.

"If G.o.d only hears half our prayers, and that the half we care least about, what is the use of praying at all? Oh, dear! I thought I had found something at last!"