Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 40

For that came to pa.s.s which Gertrude had dreaded when Mr Sherwood went away. It was decided that she should go to school. She was too young to go into society. Her step-mother, encouraged by Miss Atherton, might have consented to her sharing all the gaieties of a rather gay season, and even her father might have yielded against his better judgment, had she herself been desirous of it. But she was not. She was more quiet and grave than ever, and spent more time over her books than was at all reasonable, as Miss Atherton thought, now that no lessons were expected from her.

She grew thin and pale, too, and was often moody, and sometimes irritable. She moped about the house, and grew stupid for want of something to do, as her father thought; and so, though it pained him to part with her, and especially to send her away against her will, he suffered himself to be persuaded that nothing better could happen to her in her present state of mind than to have earnest occupation under the direction of a friend of the family, who took charge of the education of a few young ladies in a pleasant village not far from their home.

It grieved her much to go. She had come to love her little brothers better than she knew till the time for parting drew near. This, and the dread of going among strangers, made her unhappy enough during the last few days of her stay.

"I can't think how the house will seem without you," said Christie to her, one night, as they were sitting together beside the nursery fire.

Gertrude turned so as to see her as she sat at work, but did not answer her for a minute or two.

"Do you know, I was just thinking whether my going away would make the least bit of difference in the world to you?" she said, at last.

There was no reply to be made to this, for Christie thought neither the words nor the manner quite kind, after all the pleasant hours they had pa.s.sed together. She never could have guessed the thoughts that were in Gertrude's mind in the silence that followed. She was saying to herself, almost with tears, how gladly she would change places with Christie, who was sitting there as quietly as if no change of time or place could make her unhappy. For her discontent with herself had by no means pa.s.sed away. It had rather deepened as her study of the Bible became more earnest, and the strong, pure, unselfish life of which she had now and then caught glimpses seemed more than ever beyond her power to attain. When she tried most, it seemed to her that she failed most; and the disgust which she felt on account of her daily failures had been gradually deepening into a sense of sinfulness that would not be banished. She strove to banish it. She was indignant with herself because of her unhappiness, but she struggled vainly to cast it off.

And when to this was added the sad prospect of leaving home, it was more than she could bear.

She had come up-stairs that night with a vague desire to speak to Christie about her troubles, and she had been trying to find suitable words, when Christie spoke. Her ungracious reply did not make a beginning any easier. It was a long time before either of them said another word, and it was Christie who spoke first.

"Maybe, after all, you will like school better than you expect," she said. "Things hardly ever turn out with us as we fear."

"Well, perhaps so. I must just take things as they come, I suppose."

The vexation had not all gone yet, Christie thought, by her tone; so she said no more. In a little while she was quite startled by Miss Gertrude's voice, it was so changed, as she said:

"All day long this has been running in my mind: 'Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.' What does it mean?"

"Jesus said it to the woman at the well," said Christie. And she added: "'But the water that I shall give him shall be in him as a well of water springing up to everlasting life.'"

"What does it mean, do you think--'shall never thirst'?"

Christie hesitated. Of late their talks had not always been pleasant.

Gertrude's vexed spirit was not easy to deal with, and her questions and objections were not always easily answered.

"I don't know; but I think the 'living water' spoken about in the other verses means all the blessings that Christ has promised to His people."

She paused.

"His people--always His people!" said Miss Gertrude to herself.

"G.o.d's Spirit is often spoken of under the figure of water," continued Christie. "'I will pour water on him that is thirsty!' and in another place Jesus Himself says, 'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.' Such an expression must have been very plain and appropriate to the people of that warm country, where water was necessary and not always easily got."

Christie had heard all this said; and she repeated it, not because it answered Miss Gertrude's question, but because she did not know what else to say. And all the time she was trying to get a glimpse of the face which the young lady shaded with her hand. She wanted very much to say something to do her good, especially now that they were about to part. The feeling was strong in Christie's heart, at the moment, that though Miss Gertrude might return again, their intercourse could never be renewed--at least not on the same footing; and though it hurt her much to know it, her own pain was quite lost in the earnest desire she felt in some way or other to do Miss Gertrude good. So, after a pause, she said, again--

"I suppose 'to thirst' means to earnestly desire. 'Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness,' you remember. And David says, 'As the hart panteth after the water-brook, so panteth my soul after Thee, O G.o.d!' And in another place, 'My soul thirsteth for Thee.'"

Gertrude neither moved nor spoke, and Christie went on--

"And when it is said of them, 'They shall never thirst,' I suppose it means they shall be satisfied out of G.o.d's fulness. Having His best gift, all the rest seems of little account. 'Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest, and causest to approach near unto Thee, that he may dwell in Thy courts: he shall be satisfied with the goodness of Thy house, and of Thy holy temple.' And in another place, 'My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise Thee with joyful lips.'" And then, as she was rather apt to do when deeply in earnest, breaking into the old familiar Scottish version, she added--

"'They with the fatness of Thy house Shall be well satisfied; From rivers of Thy pleasures Thou Wilt drink to them provide.

Because of life the fountain pure Remains alone with Thee; And in that purest light of Thine We clearly light shall see.'"

She stopped, partly because she thought she had said enough, and partly because it would not have been easy just then to have said more. Her face drooped over her work, and there was silence again.

"Well," said Miss Gertrude, with a long breath, "it must be a wonderful thing to be _satisfied_, as you call it."

"Yes," said Christie, softly; "and the most wonderful thing of all is that all may enjoy this blessedness, and freely, too."

"I have heard you say that before," said Miss Gertrude; "but it is all a mystery to me. You say all who will may have this blessedness; but the Bible says it is the man whom G.o.d chooses that is blessed."

"Well," said Christie, gravely, "what would you have? 'By grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of G.o.d.'

'The gift of G.o.d is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.' There is nothing in all the Bible clearer than that. And surely eternal life is a gift worthy of G.o.d to give."

"But He does not give it to all," said Miss Gertrude.

"To all who desire it--to all who seek for it in Jesus' name," said Christie, earnestly.

"But in another place it says, 'No man can come unto Me, except the Father, who hath sent Me, draw him.'"

Gertrude did not speak to-night, as she had sometimes done of late, in the flippant way which thoughtless young people often a.s.sume when they talk on such subjects. Her voice and manner betrayed to Christie that she was very much in earnest, and she hesitated to answer her; not, as at other times, because she thought silence was the best reply, but because she longed so earnestly to say just what was right.

"This change which is so wonderful must be G.o.d's work from beginning to end, you once said," continued Gertrude. "And since we have no part in the work, I suppose we must sit and wait till the change comes, with what patience we may."

"It is G.o.d's work from beginning to end," repeated Christie, thoughtfully. "We cannot work this change in ourselves. We cannot save ourselves, in whole or in part. Nothing can be clearer than that."

"Well?" said Gertrude, as she paused.

"Why, it would be strange indeed if so great a work was left to creatures so weak and foolish as we are. None but G.o.d could do it. And if a child is hungry or thirsty or defiled, what needs he to know more than that there is enough and to spare for all his wants in the hands of a loving Father? There would be no hope for us if this great change were to be left to us to work. But the work being G.o.d's, all may hope.

I suppose I know what you mean," she added. "I have heard my father, and Peter O'Neil, and others, speak about these things. Peter used to say, 'If G.o.d means to save me He will save me; and I need give myself no trouble about it.' That is true in one sense, but not in the sense that Peter meant. I wish I could mind what my father used to say to him, but I cannot. Somehow, I never looked at it in that way. It seemed to me such a wonderful and blessed thing that G.o.d should have provided a way in which we could be saved, and then that He should save us freely, that, it never came into my mind to vex myself with thoughts like these.

I was young, only a child, but I had a great many troubled unhappy thoughts about myself; and to be able to put them all aside--to leave them all behind, as it were, and just trust in Jesus, and let Him do all for me--oh, I cannot tell you the blessed rest and peace it was to me!

But I did not mean to speak about myself."

"But I want you to tell me," said Gertrude, softly.

"I cannot tell you much," said Christie, gravely. "I am not wise about such things. I know there are some who make this a stone to stumble over--that we can do nothing, and we must just wait. But don't you remember how it is said, 'Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call ye upon Him when He is near.' 'They that seek Me early shall find Me.'

And in the New Testament, 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find.' And Jesus Himself said, 'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.' And in another place it is said, 'The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.'

"Surely all this means something. G.o.d would never bid us come unless He was willing to receive us. Having given His Son to die for us, how can we doubt His willingness to receive us? Surely no one who is weary and heavy-laden need stay away, when He bids them come. He says, 'I will heal your backslidings; I will receive you graciously; I will love you freely. A new heart will I give to you, and a right spirit will I put within you.' Ah, that is the best of all!"

There was a pause again, and then Christie added--

"I can't say all I wish to say. Though I see all this clearly myself, I haven't the way of making it clear to others. But there is one thing sure. It is just those who feel themselves to be helpless that have reason to hope. 'For while we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the unG.o.dly.' Why need any one hesitate after that?"

Little more was said; but if ever Christie prayed earnestly she prayed for Gertrude at that hour. And afterwards, when they met again, in circ.u.mstances well calculated to dispel all foolish shyness in speaking about such things, Gertrude told her that she too was praying as she had never prayed before. And the happy tears that stood in their eyes as they spoke afforded good evidence that these pet.i.tions, though silent, had not ascended in vain.

The days that followed the departure of Gertrude were uneventful ones.

Only one thing happened before spring came to break the quiet routine of Christie's life. The little boy Claude loved her better every day, but no better than she loved him. And as time pa.s.sed on, and his health, notwithstanding the frequent recurrence of bad days and sudden turns of illness, continued steadily to improve, the influence for good which his little nurse and her simple teachings had over him became more apparent to all the household.

She was treated by Mrs Seaton with a consideration which she had not been in the habit of showing her servants. Hitherto the daily drives of the little invalid had been shared by his mother or Gertrude, while Christie was expected during their absence to perform such duties in the nursery as could not well be attended to while the children were with her. But after Gertrude went away it was usually so arranged that Christie should go with him. She was growing tall, but she was very slender; and though she never complained of illness, it was easy to be seen that she had not much strength to fall back upon. Grateful for her loving care of her helpless little boy, Mrs Seaton spared her all possible labour, while she trusted her implicitly in all that concerned both children.