LOOKING BACK
"How sweet to know
The trials which we cannot comprehend
Have each their own divinely purposed end.
He traineth so
For higher learning, ever onward reaching
For fuller knowledge yet, and His own deeper teaching."
"Nor only here
The rich result of all our God doth teach,
His scholars, slow at best until we reach
A nobler sphere;
Then, only then, our training is complete,
And the true life begins for which He made us meet."—F. R. Havergal.
"DEAR COZ,—When is your wedding coming off? Mine is next Midsummer
Day. I'm following your example, and Chris and I are going to set up
house together. We understand each other to a T, and she's a stirring,
cheery companion, I can tell you! She is a true farmer's wife, for a
working farmer I mean to be, either in this old land or across the
ocean. All my hurt feelings have departed. I could even shake hands
with your doctor, so send me a line, and I'll ever remain,"
"Your affec. cousin,"
"CHARLIE."
Jean received this letter about six weeks after she had been in
Scotland.
It brought a smile to her lips, but a letter from Barbara by the same
post did more. It brought real joy to her heart.
"MY DEAREST JEAN,—I hope you will be pleased about Chris. I think
they are well suited to each other, and Charlie is such a dear good
unselfish fellow, that she will be certain to find him a good husband.
I hope Mrs. Fergusson will approve. She has been so very kind to Chris
in more ways than I can mention."
"And now, dear Jean, this is very private and confidential. You will
like to know that I have been seeking to know the One you love and
serve. I have been so filled with my own shortcomings, that I have had
a miserable time of it, but the light has come at last, and I, like
Christian, have dropped my burden at the Cross. Oh, Jean, why did I
never do it before? Why have I wasted all these years in fruitless
living? But I don't believe I should have been convinced of my need of
it, if I had not gone to nurse you."
"I shall never forget the sight of you, parched with fever, nearly
starved, without a friend, and yet murmuring with a smile, 'Underneath
are the everlasting arms.'"
"I felt then the worth of those arms to sustain you at such a time."
"Write to me and help me, for I'm such a beginner, but I'm so happy.
Even the future loss of Chris does not, cannot depress me. I am longing
that she should experience it with me. Pray for her, and for me, that I
may not bring discredit upon my Master's cause. Much love, dear."
"Your grateful friend,"
"BARBARA."
"Leslie," Jean said a little later, "do you know, I shall only take up
my painting as a recreation in future. I want to finish my picture,
but I feel now that nothing is worth absorbing one's whole time and
thoughts but our Master's work. Barbara's letter inspires me. Why have
I been so silent, so self-absorbed? I feel a longing desire to win
every one into the kingdom. Is this just a wave of enthusiasm, or do
you think I may be learning a little more in God's school?"
"My darling, it is only that you have been sent into another class.
Thank God for it, and ask Him to deepen and strengthen every desire
to work for Him. There are passive and active Christians. I dare not
judge the former. Sickness, physical nervousness, and other causes
may cripple their powers, but I would have every nerve and tissue
of your being, tingling with life and activity. A healthy soul is
like a healthy body, it suffers at once, if it does not exercise its
functions. If we have good news to tell, it is only the devil himself
who will keep our mouths shut."
Sunnie did not hear of the missionary scheme till Jean's Scotch visit
came to an end, and she had returned to London.
Then she wrote a letter:—
"My DARLING COUSIN JEAN,—Cousin Leslie has been talking to me, and
playing it all out on the piano. I cried at first, because I did want
you to come and live close to us."
"But the poor heathen must be made happy, and they will love to hear
Cousin Leslie play hymns and talk to them. And it's dreadful for
grown-up people in the world to grow up and know everything else except
about Jesus. I'm making up pictures in my head about you, when you go
over the sea. You'll have a little house in the middle of cocoa-nut
trees and bananas, and monkeys and parrots will be running about your
garden, and little black children will be coming to your school, and
you'll teach them the hymns we sing on Sunday, and they'll laugh and be
glad."
"God will make me glad soon, so I'm trying hard not to cry. I shan't
be a brave Margaret Gordon if I do, shall I? But I feel like I did in my
dream, when you were holding Cousin Leslie's hand and running away from
me."
"I think a missionary is a grander thing than a king or queen, for
it's next best to being an angel. And if I grow up without going to
heaven, I shall be a missionary, too."
"Your loving little"
"SUNNIE."
* * * * *
It was the eve of Jean's wedding-day.
She was in the little house in Kensington that belonged to Mrs.
Douglas, and the latter was with her. She had arrived in England three
months before, for she had buried Colonel Douglas in the sunny south.
She returned with a serene and peaceful face to take up her old life in
London again.
It seemed pathetic to Jean to think that the happiness of wedded life
had come to her so late, and for such a short space of time, but Mrs.
Douglas had no complaints or regrets.
"I went to him when he wanted me most, and we shall only be a little
time away from each other. My heaven is all the sweeter for his
presence there. I can afford to wait till I am sent for!"
She was full of affectionate interest in Jean, and after the girl had
poured out an account of herself during her time abroad, Mrs. Douglas
remained very thoughtful. Then she put her hand caressingly on Jean's
wavy hair, for she was sitting at her feet, with her head resting on
her knee.
"Jean, darling, isn't it sometimes good to look back, and trace
our steps through life? You came to me an undisciplined, wilful,
thoughtless girl; you are leaving me to-morrow a thoughtful, earnest
woman. Do you realise how all your circumstances, your disappointments,
your troubles as well as your pleasures, have been the moulding of the
clay in the hands of the Great Potter?"
Jean looked up thoughtfully.
"I would not have a day different if I might," she said emphatically.
And Mrs. Douglas said softly—
"And that is what most of us will say when we get to heaven."
FINIS