Niece Catherine Part 6

Catherine was aware of this, but her brave spirit was quite undaunted by the reflection. The choice had been offered her suddenly, between hurting Uncle Jack's feelings and accepting the home he had so lovingly offered her; and as her heart had dictated, so had she acted. In grat.i.tude and affection had the choice been made. Now, far from regretting it, she had become aware of many strong reasons in its favour.

To begin with, it gave her the chance to be Uncle Jack's confidante, even in a humble way his helper, in religious questions; it provided her with freedom which she could use in trying to heal the quarrel between her uncles; it offered her a new task and duty, that of helping poor, fretful, ignorant, pa.s.sionate Agatha to find peace in the thought of Jesus Christ.

Had Catherine remained homeless, she could have done, perhaps, much of the work she was already yearning to perform, but Uncle Ross might have doubted her perfect sincerity. Now she could not be suspected of mercenary motives in trying to influence him. Had she waited until he had offered her a home at Carm Hall, which might have happened, she would either have been obliged to offend him by refusing, or probably would have been forbidden to visit Redan Cottage. No!--though the world might ridicule her unselfish choice, she was proud and glad of it!

For Brian North's sake it was natural that she should momentarily regret the lost chance of Uncle Ross's help for him; but she was perfectly sincere in the hearty words by which she a.s.sured Agatha that, though her choice might be ridiculed by some, she was yet both determined and happy in it.

The girl clung to her, and protested both against her resolution to stay with Mrs. Arderne and her obligation to return now to Woodley Villa. But Catherine was firm.

'You'll come again to-morrow, won't you?'

'If I possibly can, darling.'

'Oh, I want you so badly! I think you'll help me not to be so miserable.

I'm _very_ ill, you know; the pain's often bad, and then I think I'm going to die at once, and--and if I _did_, I'm certain I shouldn't--go to heaven.'

'_Agatha!_'

With attempted bravado Agatha laughed.

'No, of course I shouldn't! I'm beastly selfish, and I've never done anything but _think_ grumbles at G.o.d. I'm not resigned a bit,--not meek and humble of heart,--I don't see why I should be.'

'Don't you? Have you never thought about the debt we sinners owe to the Son of the Heavenly Father, who died upon the cross for us, that we might become ent.i.tled to the glorious eternity of heavenly life?'

'But G.o.d made me,--crippled, useless, invalided as I am!'

'But, dearie, suppose some great physician came to tell you that you must suffer and be helpless for one short hour, and that then you would recover your health and strength for eighty or ninety years, would you not bless his name?'

'Of course I would!'

'And supposing that the physician had obtained your cure through making some colossal sacrifice himself as a propitiation?'

'Catherine--you--you mean that Christ is the Great Physician!'

'Yes, dear. When from the eternal heavens you look back upon your life of pain and weariness on earth, it will seem but as a fleeting hour, and you will wonder why you couldn't understand G.o.d's loving promises better while you lived,--why you grumbled at the moments of suffering which His compa.s.sion sent you to purify your soul from sin, to prevent your caring too much for the things of this earth. Why, Agatha, don't we despise a little child who cries and storms about some momentary, necessary pain?

Yet we all of us behave just as weakly before the eyes of our Father.'

'But I shan't ever get to heaven. I'm not good.'

'Jesus came on earth to save sinners. Remember how we are told, "The Lord thy G.o.d in the midst of thee is mighty; He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy; He will rest in His love, He will joy over thee with singing." Tell me, is that a picture of a cruel G.o.d? of One who does not feel for the weakness and perversity of human nature? Oh, my dearie, think over those three words only, "He will save," and offer Him your heart, with all its imperfect longings. He is the Saviour who "pardoneth iniquity, and pa.s.seth by transgression," who "retaineth not His anger for ever, because He delighteth in mercy."'

Agatha's dark eyes gazed wonderingly at Catherine's sweet, smiling face.

'I--I will think about Him,' she whispered after a pause. 'But, oh, do come again to-morrow if you can. Guardian doesn't talk about G.o.d as clearly as you do; he's groping after Him still, Catherine, but you speak and look just as though you'd been to heaven yourself, and seen Him face to face!'

'So may we all see Him, dear,--in the blessings of earth, in daisies, and sunsets, and storms; in love, and humility, and suffering. For heaven is where He is, and He is everywhere! I shall pray that you may receive Him into your heart, and so make heaven there, little Agatha.'

CHAPTER V

An Unshaken Resolution

When Catherine ran up the steps of the villa on her return that night, she caught sight of Mrs. Arderne's anxious eyes peeping through a front window at her, and the door was quickly opened by that lady herself.

'My dear girl, I have been worrying about you! How dark it is outside!'

'I am not late for supper, am I?'

'No. I only worried because you were out alone in the darkness.'

'You dear soul! It was very kind of you, but there was nothing at all terrible to be met with in this peaceful English village! The poorer people are all out now, shopping for to-morrow--it is Sat.u.r.day night, you know. There! I don't believe that a companion ought to call her employer "You dear soul." Why don't you scold me when I forget our new relation to one another?'

Mrs. Arderne patted Catherine's rosy cheek, and taking her arm led her into the sitting-room, where supper was spread for two.

'Because I do not wish you to be a bit different, child, except in the way of having more worldly wisdom in your private affairs. I hoped that your impecunious Uncle Jack would disappoint you, and his ward prove a captious, annoying, spoiled invalid, instead of which he has evidently pleased you so well that even Miss Agatha has not been able to put you out of spirits.'

'Poor little Agatha!--indeed, she too pleased me!'

Mrs. Arderne sighed.

'It is a disappointment to _me_, I a.s.sure you, to see you come back wearing that radiant face!'

'They have been so good to me! And the night air is deliciously cold, and I'm as hungry as a hunter! I must be an expensive companion, for I eat so much, don't I?'

'Not a morsel more than a healthy girl should. Satisfy your appet.i.te, Catherine; then we will sit round the fire while you give me an honest account of your visit to Redan Cottage.'

So, when the servant had cleared away, the two friends began a cosy chat, the younger seated as usual on a low stool, leaning her right arm on the elder's knee.

It was a joy to Catherine, this description of her visit to her Uncle Jack and Agatha, for it enabled her to recall the incidents of an eventful evening, and helped her to understand better both his character and that of his ward. The more she reflected and spoke, the more did she see that she had chosen rightly, and Mrs. Arderne's well-meant regrets only made her own courage and grat.i.tude the stronger.

After some discussion Mrs. Arderne asked, in bewildered tones:

'Is it mere preference for one uncle that has made you choose to sacrifice all your chances, child?'

'No. There are many, many reasons why I could not have chosen otherwise.

You would not have had me refuse a kind offer, hurt Uncle Jack's feelings, disappoint Agatha, and deny my own wishes as well, and all for the sake of a possible financial advantage, would you? Uncle Ross did not offer me a home at all; and if he had done so, I don't think I could have accepted it. He would have expected me to share his line of policy towards Uncle Jack. Besides, I should have felt a mercenary wretch.

Since I am blessed with health and an opportunity to earn my own living, I ought not to live in idleness and luxury at any relative's expense. And I should be wrong, were I to accept from one uncle the wealth which belongs rightly to his nearest relative--the other uncle.'

'Now I do begin to understand!' cried Mrs. Arderne. 'Your pride influenced you princ.i.p.ally in the making of your choice.'

Catherine raised her frank eyes to meet the disapproving gaze of her friend.

'I don't think it was a bad kind of pride,' she answered simply. 'And I was only leading up to my biggest reason of all.'

'Probably that is as absurd as the others, my dear!'