A LETTER.
Blair would gladly have chosen another time and place for the
composition of the difficult letter he was called on to write, but he
felt compelled to fulfil his promise at once. The men passed by him in
silence, save the single remark of Brimstone, "Give my love to your
_sweet_ mother," delivered in an insulting tone, and with a laugh more
repulsive than the hiss of a snake.
Blair glanced anxiously in the direction where Derry had disappeared,
almost fearing to see that clenched hand coming forth to do its
threatened work of vengeance. But Derry was already far away, and
Brimstone joined his mess-mates without receiving a word or sign of
rebuke.
Blair took up his pen with a silent prayer that it might be guided by
Him without whose aid vain are the most eloquent words of the wisest
counsellor. His letter was as follows:
"DEAR ---- I don't know your name, but your father is my friend, and
of course I feel interested in you for his sake. He has been very
kind to me, and it is a great pleasure to me to do any thing for
him. He has been talking to me of you, and while he has gone on deck
he wants me to write to you. How he loves you. You are the bright
spot to him in life, his oasis in the desert of this weary world.
When he is far out on the wide sea, your face comes up before him,
and makes the loneliest place a home. He loves to think that you
pray for him. He feels that he needs your prayers. Happy are the
fathers who, plunged in earthly cares on sea and land, have children
to fold their hands and lift their hearts in prayer for them. This
is all you can do for your absent father. Though you could give him
crowns and kingdoms, wealth and honor, they would not be worth as
much as one earnest, faithful, importunate prayer in Jesus' name.
That name is all-powerful, and _must prevail_. Your father calls you
his 'little flower.' He wants his little flower to be pure and
modest and simple, like the lily, which all may consider and see in
it the handiwork of God. Only God, who made this beautiful world,
can purify and cleanse our souls and help us to walk in his holy
ways. I know that you have been taught all this by the kind friends
who have watched over you from infancy. Your father wants you to
give good heed to their counsel, and ever watch and pray and
struggle against temptation. No blow could fall on him so sore as to
know his little darling was walking in the wrong path. May you never
so grieve his fond heart. Again I must tell you, though you have
read it in his repeated caresses, how your father loves you. May you
be to him that best of treasures, a prayerful, pious daughter, is
the sincere wish of
"Your father's friend,
"BLAIR ROBERTSON."
Blair folded his letter, and then addressing a few lines to his mother,
he inclosed the two in a single envelope, and sought out Derry for
further directions. Derry was pacing up and down the deck, making the
boards ring with his heavy tread.
"Shall I read you what I have written?" said Blair, laying his hand on
Derry's shoulder.
Derry started as if in a dream; but recollecting himself, he said
quickly, "Yes, yes. Here, here in the moonlight. No one will listen
here."
The light of the full moon fell on the open letter, and Blair read it
without difficulty.
"That's it, that's it. Every word of it true," said Derry in a voice
trembling with feeling. "It would kill me to think of her going wrong.
But she wont. Her way is _up_, and mine is _down, down, down_. Give me
the letter; I'll put the right name on it. You don't mind my seeing what
goes to your mother. That's no more than fair. I tell you I don't like
folks to know where my flower hides. I'll see it into the bag, and mind
you don't breathe a word of this. Mind!"
Derry's finger was raised in a threatening attitude as he spoke, and he
stopped after he had moved some steps away to give again to Blair this
sign of silence and secrecy.
Blair lingered on deck, not to enjoy the calm moonlight which so
lovingly crowned and silvered the crests of the waves. His eyes were
lifted upward, but not to gaze on the deep blue of the moonlit sky. To
the great Creator, without whom was not any thing made that was made,
Blair was pouring out the earnest petitions of his loving heart. For
Derry and his little daughter prayed the young Christian, as they only
can pray who believe the blessed words, "If ye shall ask any thing in my
name, I will do it."