_BRIGHT HOURS._
THE Confirmation was to be on Monday, and the evening before was to
Beryl a strangely happy time. She had seen Mr. Bishop in the course of
the week, and had received her ticket of admission. A sermon especially
intended for the candidates, and full of the subject of that great love
of God for men, which had already touched and stirred Beryl's heart
with a thrill never again to cease vibrating, had just been preached at
the evening service. It seems strange that few sermons comparatively
should be spoken upon this mighty theme. Is it because men know so
little of God's love?
The three were together in the drawing-room, Miss Carmichael resting,
Hester and Beryl on either side of her. Lights were out, and blinds
were drawn up, and the moonbeams fell full upon the little group.
"It has been a good time for you, child," Miss Carmichael said at
length.
"It has been the very best day I ever had in all my life," said Beryl.
"Will to-morrow be better still?"
"Such days are sometimes disappointing, hardly coming up to our
expectations. But there is generally a reason."
"What reason?" Hester asked. "I remember a feeling of flatness and
disappointment when I was confirmed, as if the whole did not at all
come up to what I had pictured beforehand. Why was it?"
"I don't know the 'why' in your particular case, Emmie. It might have
been that you gave thought to your own or your neighbour's dress
and appearance. Or it might have been that your mind was too easily
distracted by the little events of the day. Or it might have been that
you expected a sort of unnatural spiritual exaltation—such as comes
sometimes in a life, but certainly doesn't come just when it is looked
for. Or it might have been that you were more occupied with your own
feelings than with your Master."
"I think it may have been a little of all four," said Hester in a low
voice, and Beryl inquired abruptly,—
"How am I to keep myself from anything like that?"
"You cannot keep yourself, child. Christ alone can keep you."
"And I can't do anything?"
"Yes; you can look to Him, moment by moment. And you can set it
before yourself as a definite aim, in His strength to be calm, to
let the little things of every-day life pass by you unnoticed, to be
indifferent to what your fellow-candidates may wear or do, and so to
escape being tossed to and fro needlessly."
"There is something else I have been wanting very much to ask you,"
Beryl said presently, finding it easier to talk by moonlight than by
daylight.
"Yes. What?" asked Miss Carmichael.
"I don't know about what I ought to do,—I mean, if I live with Mrs.
Fenwick. There doesn't seem any work for me."
"Work for God?"
"Yes."
"There is always work for God, if you are where He intends you to be."
"I don't know whether I am."
"Did He place you there, or did you place yourself there?"
"I don't think I had much choice about it," said Beryl slowly. "But I
should like something else much better. I should like to be a nurse in
a hospital very much indeed. I always think I could do that well."
"I should like has a doubtful sound, in connection with work for God,"
said Miss Carmichael.
"Is it wrong to like what one has to do?"
"Certainly not; but it would be wrong to put aside what He has given
you to do, and to take up something else, merely because you would like
it better."
"But it might be the right thing for me," said Beryl.
"It might. Have you any reason for supposing this to be the case, at
the present moment?"
"I should like hospital work," Beryl began, and paused. "I mean, I
think I am fit for it. I am strong, and I like taking care of sick
people. And I am not wanted here. I don't like living with Aunt Di. She
does not care for me in the least, and she always speaks as if I were a
burden. And I don't see that I can be of any real use to her and Pearl.
I have worked for them a good deal lately, mending and so on, and of
course I don't mind; but it isn't 'that' work. I should not like to go
away from Hurst, because of you; but still I 'do' want to have real
work for God."
"'Seeking for some great thing to do,'" murmured Miss Carmichael.
"There is a good deal as to your own liking in all this, my dear. Now
tell me your reasons for supposing such a step to be God's will for
you."
Beryl was silent for some time.
"But, Miss Carmichael," she said, "ought I to live on Mrs. Fenwick, and
not do anything for myself?"
"You should ask Mrs. Fenwick herself as to that. She has been
practically in the place of a parent to you for years. It is not for
you, a mere girl, to break away from her, unless by her will as well as
your own."
"But if she did not mind?"
"I have a strong impression that she would mind. If not, your way would
become so much the clearer. At the same time, you should be cautious
how you bring matters to a crisis. Better that the responsibility of
the step should be hers, not yours."
"Only, if it were right for me—"
"If it is God's will for you, indications of your way will soon appear.
But there may be work for you to do in your present home first. How
if, by your own action, you were to cut yourself off from it? I am not
trying to discourage you, my dear, but I certainly recommend you to
wait. A few months hence—"
"Months!" repeated Beryl.
"No one is the worse for a little exercise of patience," said Miss
Carmichael.
After a break, she added softly:
"Those long years of waiting and preparation at Nazareth—I often think
of them. One fancies HE must have been so eager to come forward, to
make Himself known, and to do the great work for which He had come.
Yet, all through those quiet years, He was just as much 'about His
Father's business' as in the three years' busy ministry."
"Miss Carmichael, I will be patient," spoke Beryl. "I won't be in a
hurry."
"And be willing to follow the guidance when it comes, my dear, whether
or no it may point the same way as your own wishes. Remember, you are
perfectly free to '"ask" what you will;' but take care not to '"choose"
what you will,' or you will be sorry later. Always leave your Father to
choose for you."
Beryl said again, "I will."
They went to bed early, and Beryl slept as usual soundly, to wake in
the morning with a placid sense of happiness.
Breakfast passed quietly, little being said by any one. Beryl could see
that her companions were anxious not to distract her thoughts by light
conversation, though Miss Carmichael was the last person to endeavour
to force religious talk.
Breakfast over, she said simply, pressing Beryl's hand, "You will like
a short time alone, my child."
And Beryl went away obediently to her own room.
[Illustration: She went away to bring back a soft white Indian shawl,
which she folded round the girl's square shoulders.]
Thither Miss Carmichael followed her, when the hour for starting drew
near, to see that Beryl was duly equipped. No stir was made about the
matter, and Beryl certainly offered no "bridal" appearance. She wore a
plain light-grey dress, lately procured for her by Mrs. Fenwick. Miss
Carmichael's kindness had supplied a pair of white gloves and a little
white net cap; and with her own hands Miss Carmichael fastened the
latter on.
"Shall I wear my black jacket?" asked Beryl doubtfully.
"No, my dear; that will not quite do," said Miss Carmichael.
And she went away, to bring back a soft white Indian shawl, which she
folded round the girl's square shoulders.
"Now it is all right," she said, and she kissed Beryl.
"You are so kind," was all Beryl could say.
"Never mind me now. I want your little mind to be full of other
matters."
"I am trying, Miss Carmichael."
"Don't try after feelings of excitement; only quietly remember your
Master, and think how you are promising yourself anew to Him, and how
He has promised to keep you to the end. 'I will pay my vows unto the
Lord now, in the presence of all His people.' 'Unto Thee, O Lord, do I
lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in Thee.'"
Then again she left the room, and only came back when the fly was at
the door.
Three hours later the service was over, and they were at home again.
Beryl went upstairs, and Hester remarked, "I think she was thoroughly
happy all the while."
"I could not see her face," said Miss Carmichael. "She looks happy now."
"I saw her plainly," said Hester. "She seemed grave and reverent, just
as one would wish, and there was no gazing about at her neighbours. And
the whole service was so nicely arranged, no fuss or bustle about it. I
am glad Beryl went from here, not from Mrs. Fenwick's. She would have
heard nothing but talk about the candidates' veils, if she had been
there."
"And now, Em, we want our dinner," said Miss Carmichael.
Beryl came downstairs, feeling dreamy, and rather shrinking from
ordinary conversation. Dinner over, she seemed at a loss what to do
with herself, and was set down by Miss Carmichael to hem a seam. She
did as she was told, but remarked, "It feels like Sunday—as if one
ought not to work."
"It is not Sunday, my dear, and I doubt if you would find yourself able
to attend to a book. Your mind has been on the strain yesterday and
to-day, and if you keep it up too long, you will have an uncomfortable
reaction. I want this shirt finished for a poor person."
"Oh, if it is really useful, I shall like to do it," said Beryl, her
face lighting up. "May I help as much as possible while I am here?"
"That is the first step," said Miss Carmichael, smiling. "I shall soon
see what the help is worth."
Beryl was spurred on by the words to diligent exertion, and her next
hour's performance was creditable to herself both in quantity and
quality. She was disposed to fall into grave talk again about future
plans, but Miss Carmichael discouraged this, thinking that enough had
been said for the present.
After a while, she sent out Hester and Beryl for a walk, herself going
upstairs to lie down.
By teatime, Beryl was natural again, entirely happy, but without her
look of strained gravity.
"It has been such a nice walk," she said. "Hester and I have been
talking about all sorts of things. And we both think that nobody in the
world is like you, Miss Carmichael."
"I suppose I am to take your words as a compliment, my dear; but
they have a doubtful sound. One may be pre-eminent for disagreeable
qualities, as well as for agreeable ones."
"But you know what we mean," said Beryl, looking into Miss Carmichael's
face with an expression which transformed her own, and which would
indeed have astonished Mrs. Brigstock and Diana Fenwick. "Hettie says
she always thinks of you as a sort of mother, and I am sure 'I' do."
"Then I have two children instead of one child," said Miss Carmichael.
"Ah, the post has come. A letter for Beryl. Sensible man to bring it
here, instead of dropping it into the box over the way."
"From Mademoiselle Bise!" exclaimed Beryl. "How curious! It seems as if
everything nice came together at once."
And presently, she put the letter into Miss Carmichael's hand.
"I should like you to read it," she said. "It is 'very' nice—all
through. Poor Suzette! She was taken ill two days after I came away,
and she had to go to a sort of home for governesses, and lately she
could not find my letter, and didn't know my address. She says she
hopes I have trusted her: but I have not."
"Don't doubt friends hastily in future," said Miss Carmichael.
"I'll write to her directly," said Beryl. "She is just going to another
school in London. I am so glad I have heard. I had been looking for a
letter, and wondering why one did not come, so long. Isn't it strange
everything coming to-day?"
"I hope a few more things may come in the next few days," said Hester.
"And the next few weeks," said Beryl. "Oh, I hope Aunt Di will stay a
long time at the Engadine,—if I am not in the way here. I wish it could
be very long. I want to learn so many things."
"'Homme propose, Dieu dispose,'" murmured Miss Carmichael.
"But it will be so nice," said Beryl.
"Yes, very nice," said Miss Carmichael kindly. "But take each day as it
comes, my child. Don't set your heart on what lies ahead."