_A PURSE._
SO day after day, for many months, Lionel found time to go into The
Towers, and "learn" with Mrs. Bruce. His lessons with his tutor took
up a great part of each day, but whenever he could, he made the
opportunity. When he appeared, Mrs. Bruce would rise up and follow him
to her sitting-room upstairs, where she would seat herself in the large
bay window, and prepare to listen—the same bay window where years ago
Margaret, Alick, and Courtenay used to sit and sing hymns to his dying
grandmother.
Very often Margaret would steal in and sit down close to her mother's
knee, leaning her head against her and listening too.
Lionel saw many tears fall from those closed eyes, but he fancied, as
the days went on, that a brighter look was coming back.
"It is so restful," Margaret would say sometimes, "and I am so sure God
has sent you, Lionel, that if you do not mind my coming too, it does me
the most good of anything."
So the summer passed away. Sunnyside was done up at Courtenay's
expense, and the family moved back there in July. Still Lionel came
backwards and forwards to his "grandmamma," as he called her; and those
looking on were astonished to see how much the two learned together.
In Mrs. Bruce the difference was apparent by her talking less about
what she could not remember, and instead bringing out from time to time
little bits of what she "could" remember.
One day, she was sitting with Margaret and Lionel in their favourite
window, while Alick and Courtenay were writing at the table. Somehow
that room was the brightest in the house, and everybody seemed to
gather in it.
"Margaret, my dear," she said, bending down to smooth the cheek that
lay against her, "have I not some money?"
"Plenty, dear mother."
"Where is it?"
"Locked away safely."
"What do I do with it?"
"Nothing much, just now. Do you want to do anything?"
Mrs. Bruce was silent for a little while. At last she said:
"He was reading this morning about that poor widow putting in all she
had."
"He" meant Lionel; she never could think of his name.
"Yes, dear mother. And you thought—"
"I thought I had never put a farthing in."
"You forget what you used to do, darling mother. I have often seen you
put ever so much in the collection-plate."
She spoke soothingly; for her mother looked troubled.
But Mrs. Bruce shook her head.
Margaret never persisted. If her mother did not recall a thing, she let
it drop.
But Mrs. Bruce was not satisfied.
"No; I have never put a farthing in."
Lionel looked up suddenly; he thought he understood.
"Not as a poor widow," she went on simply. "Not as one that 'loved'
Him."
Lionel's head went down again; he had been right in his surmise. As
rich, she had, perhaps, cast in much; but as poor, she had cast in
nothing.
"Margaret, I should like to give some, now that I love Him."
"Indeed you shall, darling."
"I loved my money very much at one time," she said reflectively.
"But it is different now," suggested Margaret.
"Very different. I love Him now."
She was very silent for a long time after this, and Lionel was obliged
to go to his lessons. He did not disturb her to say good-bye, but
simply kissed her cheek, and went off.
When he was gone, Mrs. Bruce roused herself.
"Does 'he' want anything?" she asked, her eyes looking on the closed
door where Lionel had disappeared.
"I do not think he does," said Margaret, rather wondering. "Alick, do
you know of anything Lionel wants?"
Alick coloured. "Do you mean a little thing, such as a knife or bag, or
something of that sort?"
Margaret appealed to her mother.
"Do you mean a little present, dear mother?"
"I mean, what does he want most in all the world?"
Margaret shook her head, but Mrs. Bruce was in earnest.
"I do not intend it to take away from what I said before—for my Lord
Jesus. But what does that dear boy want most in the world?"
"We must ask him," said Margaret.
Alick sat with burning cheeks. "Oh, Margaret," he exclaimed, "I don't
think I ought to keep it in, but he would never tell you, and yet I do
know what he wants most in the world! Ought I to say?"
"I do not think it could be wrong," said Courtenay, looking at Mrs.
Bruce's expectant face.
Alick came over to her side, and spoke slowly and gently.
"Lionel wants some day to be trained as a medical missionary."
"A medical missionary?" asked Mrs. Bruce, looking rather bewildered.
"One who goes out to foreign lands to teach people about Jesus, having
been trained as a doctor to cure their diseases too."
"But money could not buy that, could it?" said Mrs. Bruce.
"Yes, mother," said Margaret; "money could. It is a lovely thought of
yours. You shall help him to have his heart's desire, and go out to
tell people of the love of Jesus."
Mrs. Bruce looked very pleased.
"He ought not to be told," said Courtenay. "Mother, it would perhaps
spoil him to be told yet. Could you put the money in the bank for a
little while, and keep it for him?"
"Yes, I could do that," answered Mrs. Bruce, "if you think I may not
give it to him now."
"I am sure that will be best," answered Margaret, rising, and taking
out her keys. "Look here, mother dear, I have some of your money
waiting for you in my wardrobe. Shall we go and get it, and put it in
a purse I have to spare, and mark it with his name? Then when it gets
full, we must take it to the bank. You and I can do that together."
Mrs. Bruce was perfectly satisfied. She went off with her daughter, and
Alick and Courtenay were left together.
"Will she keep to it?" asked Alick, looking up from his writing.
"Oh dear, yes! She never changes. Alick, it is a splendid idea. Her
money was quite a weight on our minds."
"Was it?"
"It is so much to lie idle, and yet we did not feel at liberty to spend
it for her. It will all be Margaret's at her death, but meanwhile,
there is a large income accumulating."
So the summer wore away, and Lionel went on his quiet way, and did not
guess anything of that purse upstairs marked with his name. He did not
tire of "learning" with the stricken invalid. But day after day, wet or
fine, busy or at leisure, they heard his step along the passage, and
his cheerful "Where's grandmamma?" Till at last, no one ever thought of
calling Mrs. Bruce anything else.
If Alick offered occasionally to be his proxy, he never would accept.
"Alick," he said once, "if I do not at the moment want to go, I
remember those words, 'Have not I sent thee?' and I go as His
messenger. When I get there, I am sure to come back richer than I went."
"I daresay you do. I am inclined to envy you."
"Why? You, Alick, whom everybody loves?"
"Because you are learning so fast, and have been allowed to help her so
much."
"But you have 'helped' others, as you call it. Does not Courtenay say
you were the means long ago—"
"Yes," answered Alick, "but I seem to have come to a standstill. I
don't help anybody now."
"Alick, you've helped 'me' a great deal at any rate. But lately I've
learned one thing—it is what mother said to me in her message, but
I daresay you don't remember—that if I hungered and thirsted after
righteousness, I should be filled. I 'have' hungered, and I 'have'
thirsted, and He 'is' filling me."
"Then I must hunger and thirst too," said Alick; "for I too want to be
'blessed.'"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "Blessed are the merciful:
for they shall obtain mercy."]