The Old Helmet Volume II Part 46

"But I am sure you are good?" said Mrs. Esthwaite earnestly.

"Just as you are,--except for the grace of G.o.d, which is free to all."

"But," said Mrs. Esthwaite looking at her as if she were something hardly of earth like ordinary mortals,--"I have not given up the world as you have. I cannot. I like it too well."

"I have not given it up either," said Eleanor smiling again; "not in the sense you mean. I have not given up anything but sin. I enjoy everything else in the world as much as you do."

"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, much bewildered.

"Only this," said Eleanor, with very sweet gravity now. "I do not love anything that my King hates. All that I have given up, and all that leads to it; but I am all the more free to enjoy everything that is really worth enjoying, quite as well as you can, or any body else."

"But--you do not go to parties and dances, and you do not drink wine, and the theatre, and all that sort of thing; do you?"

"I do not love anything that my King hates," said Eleanor shaking her head gently.

"But dancing, and wine,--what harm is in them?"

"Think what they lead to!--"

"Well wine--excuse me, I know so little about these things! and I want to know what you think;--wine, I know, if people will drink too much,--but what harm is in dancing?"

"None that I know of," said Eleanor,--"if it were always suited to womanly delicacy, and if it took one into the society of those that love Christ--or helped one to witness for him before those who do not."

"Well, I will tell you the truth," said Mrs. Esthwaite with a sort of penitent laugh,--"I love dancing."

"Ay, but I love Christ," said Eleanor; "and whatever is not for his honour I am glad to give up. It is no cross to me. I used to like some things too; but now I love Him; and his will is my will."

"Ah, that is what I said! you are good, that is the reason. I can't help doing wrong things, even if I want to do it ever so much, and when I know they are wrong; and I shouldn't like to give up anything."

"Listen," said Eleanor, holding her hands fast. "It is not that I am good. It is that I love Jesus and he helps me. I cannot do anything of myself--I cannot give up anything--but I trust in my Lord and he does it for me. It is he that does all in me that you would call good."

"Ah, but you love him."

"Should I not?" said Eleanor, "when he loved me, and gave himself for me, that he might bring me from myself and sin to know him and be happy."

"And you are happy, are you not?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, looking at her as if it were something that she had come to believe against evidence.

There was good evidence for it now, in Eleanor's smile; which would bear studying.

"There is nothing but happiness where Christ is."

"But I couldn't understand it--those places where you are going are so dreadful;--and why you should go there at all--"

"No, you do not understand, and cannot till you try it. I have such joy in the love of Christ sometimes, that I wish for nothing so much in the world, as to bring others to know what I know!"

There was power in the lighting face, which Mrs. Esthwaite gazed at and wondered.

"I think I am willing to go anywhere and do anything, which my King may give me, in that service."

"To be sure," said Mrs. Esthwaite, as if adding a convincing corollary from her own mind,--"you have some other reason to wish to get there--to the Islands, I mean."

That brought a flood of crimson over Eleanor's face; she let go her hostess's hands and turned away.

"But there was something else I wanted to ask," said Mrs. Esthwaite hastily. "Egbert said--Are you very tired, my dear?"

"Not at all, I a.s.sure you."

"Egbert said there was some most beautiful singing as he came up alongside the ship to-day--was it you?"

"In part it was I."

"He said it was hymns. Won't you sing me one?"

Eleanor liked it very well; it suited her better than talking. They sat down together, and Eleanor sang:

"'There's balm in Gilead, To make the wounded whole.

There's power enough in Jesus To save a sin-sick soul.'"

And somewhat to her surprise, before the hymn had gone far, her companion was weeping; and kept her face hidden in her handkerchief till the last words were sung.

"'Come then to this physician; His help he'll freely give.

He asks no hard condition,-- 'Tis only, look, and live.

For there's balm in Gilead, To make the wounded whole.

There's power enough in Jesus To save a sin-sick soul.'"

"I never heard anything so sweet in all my life!" said Mrs. Esthwaite as she got up and wiped her eyes. "I've been keeping you up. But do tell me," said she looking at her innocently,--"are all Methodists like you?"

"No," said Eleanor laughing; and then she was vexed at herself that the laugh changed to a sob and the tears came. Was _she_ hysterical? It was very unlike her, but this seemed something like it. Neither could she immediately conquer the strangling sensation, between laughter and crying, which threatened her.

"My dear! I'm very sorry," said Mrs. Esthwaite. "You are too tired!--and it is my fault. Egbert will be properly angry with me."

But Eleanor conquered the momentary oppression, threw off her tears, and gave her hostess a peaceful kiss for good night; with which the little lady went off comforted. Then Eleanor sat down by her window, and with tears wet on her eyelashes yet, looked off to the beautiful moonlit harbour in the distance--and thought. Her thoughts were her own. Only some of them had a reference to certain words that speak of "sowing beside all waters," and a tender earnest remembrance of the seed she had just been scattering. "Beside all waters"--yes; and as Eleanor looked over towards the fair, peace-speaking view of Port Jackson, in New South Wales, she recollected the prayer that labourers might be sent forth into the vineyard.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN VIEWS.

"Know well, my soul, G.o.d's hand controls Whate'er thou fearest; Round Him in calmest music rolls Whate'er thou hearest."

"That girl is the most lovely creature!" said Mrs. Esthwaite when she rejoined her husband.