THE NEW BLANKET.
Nettie had been in Barry's room one evening, putting it to rights;
through the busy day it had somehow been neglected. Mrs. Mathieson's
heart was so heavy that her work dragged; and when Nettie came out and
sat down to her Sunday-school lesson, her mother kept watching her for a
long time with a dull, listless face, quite still and idle. The child's
face was busy over her Bible, and Mrs. Mathieson did not disturb her,
till Nettie lifted her head to glance at the clock. Then the bitterness
of her mother's heart broke out.
"He's a ruined man!" she exclaimed, in her despair. "He's a ruined man!
he's taking to drinking more and more. It's all over with him--and with
us."
"No, mother," said Nettie, gently,--"I hope not. There's better times
coming, mother. God _never_ forsakes those that trust in him. He has
promised to hear prayer; and I have prayed to him, and I feel sure he
will save us."
Mrs. Mathieson was weeping bitterly.
"So don't you cry, mother. Trust! 'Only believe'--don't you remember
Jesus said that? Just believe him, mother. I do."
And proving how true she spoke--how steadfast and firm was the faith she
professed, with that, as Nettie got up to put away her books, her lips
burst forth into song; and never more clear nor more sweet than she sung
then, sounded the wild sweet notes that belong to the words--favourites
with her. There was no doubt in her voice at all.
"Great spoils I shall win, from death, hell, and sin,
'Midst outward afflictions shall feel Christ within;
And when I'm to die, Receive me, I'll cry;
For Jesus hath loved me, I cannot tell why."
Mrs. Mathieson sobbed at first; but there came a great quietness over
her; and as the clear beautiful strain came to an end, she rose up,
threw her apron over her face, and knelt quietly down by the side of
her bed; putting her face in her hands. Nettie stood and looked at her;
then turned and went up the stair to her own praying-place; feeling in
her heart as if instead of two weary feet she had had "wings as angels,"
to mount up literally. She knew that part of her prayer was getting its
answer. She knew by the manner of her mother, that it was in no
bitterness and despair but in the humbleness of a bowed heart that she
had knelt down; and Nettie's slow little feet kept company with a most
bounding spirit. She went to bed and covered herself up, not to sleep,
but because it was too cold to be in the garret a moment uncovered; and
lay there broad awake, "making melody in her heart to the Lord."
It was very cold up in Nettie's garret now; the winter had moved on into
the latter part of December, and the frosts were very keen; and the
winter winds seem to come in at one end of the attic and to just sweep
through to the other, bringing all except the snow with them. Even the
snow often drifted in through the cracks of the rough wainscot board,
or under the shutter, and lay in little white streaks or heaps on the
floor, and never melted. To-night there was no wind, and Nettie had left
her shutter open that she might see the stars as she lay in bed. It did
not make much difference in the feeling of the place, for it was about
as cold inside as out; and the stars were great friends of Nettie.
To-night she lay and watched them, blinking down at her through her
garret window with their quiet eyes; they were always silent witnesses
to her of the beauty and purity of heaven, and reminders too of that eye
that never sleeps and that hand that planted and upholds all. How bright
they looked down to-night! It was very cold, and lying awake made Nettie
colder; she shivered sometimes under all her coverings; still she lay
looking at the stars in that square patch of sky that her shutter
opening gave her to see, and thinking of the golden city. "They shall
hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on
them, nor any heat. For the lamb which is in the midst of the throne
shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters:
and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." "There shall be no
more curse; but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, and
his servants shall serve him."
"His servants shall serve him"--thought Nettie; "and mother will be
there,--and father will be there, and Barry,--and I shall be there! and
then I shall be happy. And I am happy now. 'Blessed be the Lord, which
hath not turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me!'"--And if that
verse went through Nettie's head once, it did fifty times. So did this
one, which the quiet stars seemed to repeat and whisper to her, "The
Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants, and none of them that trust in
him shall be desolate." And though now and then a shiver passed over
Nettie's shoulders, with the cold, she was ready to sing for very
gladness and fulness of heart.
But lying awake and shivering did not do Nettie's little body any good;
she looked so very white the next day, that it caught even Mr.
Mathieson's attention. He reached out his arm and drew Nettie toward
him, as she was passing between the cupboard and the table. Then he
looked at her, but he did not say how she looked.
"Do you know day after to-morrow is Christmas day?" said he.
"Yes, I know. It's the day when Christ was born," said Nettie.
"Well, I don't know anything about that," said her father; "but what I
mean is, that a week after is New Year. What would you like me to give
you, Nettie,--hey?"
Nettie stood still for a moment, then her eyes lighted up.
"Will you give it to me, father, if I tell you?"
"I don't know. If it is not extravagant, perhaps I will."
"It will not cost much," said Nettie, earnestly. "Will you give me what
I choose, father, if it does not cost too much?"
"I suppose I will. What is it?"
"Father, you wont be displeased?"
"Not I!" said Mr. Mathieson, drawing Nettie's little form tighter in his
grasp; he thought he had never felt it so slight and thin before.
"Father, I am going to ask you a great thing!--to go to church with me
New Year's day."
"To church!" said her father, frowning; but he remembered his promise,
and he felt Nettie in his arms yet. "What on earth good will that do
you?"
"A great deal of good. It would please me so much, father."
"What do you want me to go to church for?" said Mr. Mathieson, not sure
yet what humour he was going to be in.
"To thank God, father, that there was a Christmas; when Jesus came, that
we might have a New Year."
"What? what?" said Mr. Mathieson. "What are you talking about?"
"Because, father," said Nettie, trembling, and seizing her chance,
"since Jesus loved us and came and died for us, we all may have a New
Year of glory. I shall, father; and I want you too. Oh do, father!" and
Nettie burst into tears. Mr. Mathieson held her fast, and his face
showed a succession of changes for a minute or so. But she presently
raised her head from his shoulder, where it had sunk, and kissed him,
and said--
"May I have what I want, father?"
"Yes--go along," said Mr. Mathieson. "I should like to know how to
refuse you, though. But, Nettie, don't you want me to give you anything
else?"
"Nothing else!" she told him, with her face all shining with joy. Mr.
Mathieson looked at her and seemed very thoughtful all supper time.
"Can't you strengthen that child up a bit?" he said to his wife
afterwards. "She does too much."
"She does as little as I can help," said Mrs. Mathieson; "but she is
always at something. I am afraid her room is too cold o' nights. She
aint fit to bear it. It's bitter up there."
"Give her another blanket or quilt, then," said her husband. "I should
think you would see to that. Does she say she is cold?"
"No,--never except sometimes when I see her looking blue, and ask her."
"And what does she say then?"
"She says sometimes she is a little cold."
"Well, do put something more over her, and have no more of it!" said her
husband, violently. "Sit still and let the child be cold, when another
covering would make it all right!" And he ended with swearing at her.
Mrs. Mathieson did not dare to tell him that Nettie's food was not of a
sufficiently nourishing and relishing kind; she knew what the answer to
that would be; and she feared that a word more about Nettie's
sleeping-room would be thought an attack upon Mr. Lumber's being in the
house. So she was silent.
But there came home something for Nettie in the course of the Christmas
week, which comforted her a little, and perhaps quieted Mr. Mathieson
too. He brought with him, on coming home to supper one evening, a great
thick roll of a bundle, and put it in Nettie's arms, telling her that
was for her New Year.
"For me!" said Nettie, the colour starting a little into her cheeks.
"Yes, for you. Open it, and see."
So Nettie did, with some trouble, and there tumbled out upon the floor a
great heavy warm blanket, new from the shop. Mr. Mathieson thought the
pink in her cheeks was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long while.
"Is this for _me_, father?"
"I mean it to be so. See if it will go on that bed of yours and keep you
warm."
Nettie gave her father some very hearty thanks, which he took in a
silent, pleased way; and then she hastened off with her blanket
upstairs. How thick and warm it was! and how nicely it would keep her
comfortable when she knelt, all wrapped up in it, on that cold floor.
For a little while it would; not even a warm blanket would keep her from
the cold more than a little while at a time up there. But Nettie tried
its powers the first thing she did.
Did Mr. Mathieson mean the blanket to take the place of his promise?
Nettie thought of that, but like a wise child she said nothing at all
till the Sunday morning came. Then, before she set off for
Sunday-school, she came to her father's elbow.
"Father, I'll be home a quarter after ten; will you be ready then?"
"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson.
"For my New Year's," said Nettie. "You know you promised I should go to
church with you."
"Did I? And aint you going to take the blanket for your New Year's, and
let me off, Nettie?"
"No, father, to be sure not. I'll be home at a quarter past; please
don't forget." And Nettie went off to school very thankful and happy,
for her father's tone was not unkind. How glad she was New Year's day
had come on Sunday.
Mr. Mathieson was as good as his word. He was ready at the time, and
they walked to the church together. That was a great day to Nettie. Her
father and mother going to church in company with her and with each
other. But nobody that saw her sober sweet little face would have
guessed how very full her heart was of prayer, even as they walked along
the street among the rest of the people. And when they got to church, it
seemed as if every word of the prayers and of the reading and of the
hymns and of the sermon, struck on all Nettie's nerves of hearing and
feeling. Would her father understand any of those sweet words? would he
feel them? would they reach him? Nettie little thought that what he felt
most, what _did_ reach him, though he did not thoroughly understand it,
was the look of her own face; though she never but once dared turn it
toward him. There was a little colour in it more than usual; her eye was
deep in its earnestness; and the grave set of her little mouth was
broken up now and then in a way that Mr. Mathieson wanted to watch
better than the straight sides of her sun-bonnet would let him. Once he
thought he saw something more.
He walked home very soberly, and was a good deal on the silent order
during the rest of the day. He did not go to church in the afternoon.
But in the evening, as her mother was busy in and out getting supper
ready, and Mr. Lumber had not come in, Mr. Mathieson called Nettie to
his side.
"What was you crying for in church this forenoon?" he said, low.
"Crying!" said Nettie, surprised. "Was I crying?"
"If it wasn't tears I saw dropping from under your hands on to the
floor, it must have been some drops of rain that had got there, and I
don't see how they could very well. There warn't no rain outside. What
was it for, hey?"
There came a great flush all over Nettie's face, and she did not at once
speak.
"Hey?--what was it for?"--repeated Mr. Mathieson.
The flush passed away. Nettie spoke very low and with lips all of a
quiver. "I remember. I was thinking, father, how 'all things are
ready'--and I couldn't help wishing that you were ready too."
"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson, somewhat roughly. "All things
ready for what?"
"Ready for you," said Nettie. "Jesus is ready to love you, and calls
you--and the angels are ready to rejoice for you--and I----"
"Go on! What of you?"
Nettie lifted her eyes to him. "I am ready to rejoice too, father." But
the time of rejoicing was not yet. Nettie burst into tears.
Mr. Mathieson was not angry, yet he flung away from her with a rude
"Pshaw!" and that was all the answer she got. But the truth was, that
there was something in Nettie's look, of tenderness, and purity, and
trembling hope, that her father's heart could not bear to meet; and what
is more, that he was never able to forget.
Nettie went about her evening business helping her mother, and keeping
back the tears which were very near again; and Mr. Mathieson began to
talk with Mr. Lumber, and everything was to all appearance just as it
had been hitherto. And so it went on after that.