"My little Grace looks tired," the captain said, bending down and taking
her in his arms as the little folks were bidding good night. "I shall
carry you up stairs, darling, after the old custom."
"Thank you, papa; I'm very willing," replied Grace, clasping his neck
with her small arms.
"Lulu, shall I say good night to you first?" he asked, smiling down at
his eldest daughter, standing by his side; "as you have Eva with you,
you will perhaps not care for the usual bit of good night chat with your
father?"
"Yes, indeed I do care for it, papa!" cried Lulu. "Why, I sha'n't have
another chance this year! I wouldn't miss it for anything!"
"Then you shall not," he said, looking both pleased and amused; "that
sounds as though the next opportunity were far in the distance."
He passed out of the room as he spoke, and on up the wide stairway, Lulu
and Eva following, each with an arm about the other's waist.
"Those talks must be so delightful," remarked the latter in a low tone,
and with a slight sigh, "I'm very glad you don't let me hinder them,
dear Lu."
"I knew you wouldn't want me to," said Lulu; "you are always so kind
and thoughtful for others; and though papa sometimes gives me a quarter
of an hour or more, when we have a great deal to say to each other, I
think he won't stay more than a minute or two to-night! so that it won't
keep me long away from you."
"Oh please don't hurry for my sake," said Eva, adding softly, "You know
I, too, shall be glad of a few minutes alone with my best Friend. So if
you like, I will go into the little tower room while your papa is with
you."
"You can have both that and my bedroom to yourself, dear," returned
Lulu, "for I shall receive papa in the little sitting room that is
Gracie's and mine."
They had reached the upper hall. The captain passed into Gracie's
bedroom, Lulu into her own, Eva with her.
"Such a sweet, pretty room!" Eva said, glancing around it; "I am always
struck with that thought on coming into it, though I have seen it so
often."
"Yes," returned Lulu, her face lighting up with pleasure, "I think it so
myself. Our dear father is constantly adding pretty things here and
there to our room, and doing oh so much to make his children happy! Yet,
would you believe it, Eva? I am sometimes both ill-tempered and
disobedient to him."
"Not now! not lately?" Evelyn said half in assertion, half inquiringly
and with a look of surprise.
"Yes," Lulu replied in a low, remorseful tone, her eyes downcast, her
face flushing painfully; "only last month, one day Max was teasing me
and I was in very bad humor, so answered him very crossly. Papa happened
to be in the next room and overheard it all, and called to us both to
come to him. His voice sounded stern, and I felt angry and rebellious.
Max, never does feel so, I believe, anyway he's always obedient, and he
went at once, but I waited to be called a second time, and--O Eva, I'm
dreadfully, dreadfully ashamed! but I feel as if I must tell you because
I can't bear to have you think me so much better than I am."
"Dear Lu, don't tell it if it hurts you so. I'm sure if you were not a
good girl you wouldn't feel so very sorry and ashamed," Evelyn
interrupted, putting both arms round her friend and kissing her with
warmth of affection.
"No, indeed, I'm not!" said Lulu; "and I'll tell it, if only to punish
myself for my badness. Papa has never punished me for it, though I
really did wish he would and asked him to over and over again."
"That seems very odd," Eva said, half smiling. "Most people are only too
glad to escape punishment."
"Maybe I'm different from most folks," said Lulu, "but I always want to
beat myself when I've been so hateful, and so if papa punishes me I
always feel a good deal happier after it's over.
"But I must finish my story. Papa asked, 'Lulu, did you hear me bid you
come to me?' and I answered, 'Yes, sir'; then muttered, 'but I'll not
come a step till I get ready.'"
Evelyn seemed lost in astonishment. "Oh Lu! did you really say that?
could you venture to speak so to your father--a man whom everybody
respects so highly, and who is so dear and kind to you?"
"I did," acknowledged Lulu, her head hanging still lower and her cheek
flushing more hotly. "You see when I lived with Aunt Beulah I got into
the way of being very saucy to her, and I suppose that's how I came to
speak so to papa. Oh don't you think I ought to be dreadfully ashamed,
and that papa should have punished me very severely?"
"I suppose he is the best judge of that," Eva answered, doubtfully. "But
what did he do? Surely he didn't pass it over as of no consequence? I
think he couldn't feel it right to allow his own child to refuse
obedience to his commands."
"No; of course not. The minute I'd said the words I could have bitten my
tongue off for it. I hoped papa hadn't heard, but he had, and he rose
from his chair and came toward me (very quietly; not at all as if he was
in a passion), and I jumped up, saying 'I will, papa; I'm coming.'"
"Then he said in a tone as if he were grieved and astonished that his
own little girl could talk so to him--'Tardy obedience following upon a
most insolent refusal to obey,' and took my hand and led me to the side
of his chair.
"Then he sat down and talked to Max a little, and sent him up to his
room, and after Max had gone he talked to me.
"He said he must punish me, but he would try a new way, and for four
days I shouldn't be his child at all--at least not be treated like it,
but just as if I were only a little girl visitor; he wouldn't give me
any orders, or advice, or direction, or instruction; and I mustn't take
any liberty with him that I wouldn't feel free to take with a stranger
gentleman.
"He said I must understand that he did not intend to subject me to any
harsh treatment, but would be as polite and attentive to my wants as if
I were a guest in the house."
"O Lu, did you like it? was it nice?"
"No, indeed! I thought they were the longest days I'd ever lived, and
wondered how I could ever have thought I'd like to be my own mistress
instead of having to obey papa.
"He didn't give me one cross word or even look, but he didn't invite me
to sit on his knee, and I didn't dare do so; he didn't call me pet names
and hug me up in his arms, as he so often does when I haven't been
naughty, and I couldn't wait on him as I always love to do; he wouldn't
let me do the least thing for him. I just felt as if I wasn't one of the
family at all, and would ten times rather have had the hardest of
whippings; at least so far as the pain was concerned."
"Yes, of course; it wouldn't have been half so hard to bear. At least I
can imagine that to be made to feel yourself only a stranger in your
father's house would be a great deal worse than having to endure quite
severe bodily pain. So I think you may feel that you have been
punished."
"Not so severely as I deserve," returned Lulu, shaking her head and
sighing; "no not half. There, I can hear Gracie calling me to say
good-night. Excuse me while I run into her room for a few minutes."
She found Grace alone and just getting into bed.
"Where's papa?" Lulu asked.
"Gone down stairs; but he said he'd be back in a few minutes to have his
bit of chat with you in our sitting-room."
"Then I'll just kiss you good night and hurry back to get ready for
him."
When the captain came he found Lulu ready and waiting for him, seated
by the fire with her Bible open in her hand.
"I was learning my verse for to-morrow morning, papa," she said, closing
the book and laying it aside, as she rose to give him the easy chair she
had been occupying.
"That was right," he replied, sitting down and drawing her to his knee;
"one could hardly end the old year, or begin the new, in a better way
than by the study of God's word. Well, has my little daughter anything
particular to say to her father to-night?"
"Only that I wish I'd been a better daughter to you, papa, and that I
hope I shall be this--no next year: the year that's to begin in a few
hours. I do hope that when its last night comes you can say, 'My
daughter Lulu hasn't been once disobedient or in a passion for a whole
year.'"
"It will be a very happy thing for me--for us both--if I can," he said,
"and I am not without hope that it may be so. But my dear child, you
will need constant watchfulness lest your besetting sins overcome you
when you least expect it."
"I wish I could ever get done with the fight," she sighed. "It's such a
hard one."
"Yes, I know, dear child, for I am engaged in the same conflict; but we
must keep on resolutely till the dear Master calls us home.
"But we have the promise of His help all the way, and that we shall be
'more than conquerors through Him that loved us.' And the prize is
eternal life at God's right hand."
"It will be always easy to be good when we get to heaven?"
"Yes; the last remains of the old evil nature will have been taken away,
and we will have no more inclination to sin."
"I am very glad of that! and that God gave me such a good Christian
father to help me in my hard fight! And, papa, I must tell you again
that I am very, very sorry and ashamed because of my naughtiness last
month."
"Dear child, my dear humble penitent little girl!" he said tenderly, "it
was all long since fully and freely forgiven. Now good night, my
darling; and good bye till next year," he added in playful tone, kissing
her fondly over and over again, "unless something unforeseen should make
you want your father before morning. In that case you will not have far
to run to find him."
"Oh no; and it makes me glad always at night to remember that you are so
near, and the doors all open between our rooms, so that you could hear
me if I should call out to you, papa. I know you wouldn't be displeased
at being wakened if I were in trouble and needed you."
"No, indeed, daughter; in that case I should be only too glad to be
roused that I might hasten to your assistance.
"But let your greatest rejoicing be in the thought that you and I and
all of us are under the care of Him who neither slumbers nor sleeps. 'It
is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.'"
Rosie in her mamma's room, which she shared at this time, as on a former
occasion, was preparing for bed, Grandma Elsie quietly reading in an
easy chair beside the fire.
Presently Rosie went to the side of the chair and dropping on her knees
on the carpet, looked up smilingly into the sweet placid face bent over
the book.
"Mamma, dear, I have come for my good night kiss before getting into
bed," she said softly, adding sportively, "the last I shall solicit from
you this year."
"And you are going to be satisfied with one?" her mother asked letting
the book fall into her lap, while she laid one hand gently on her young
daughter's head and gazed tenderly down into the blooming face; with a
somewhat sad expression too, Rosie thought.
"I say, no to that, mamma," she returned, laying her head in her
mother's lap and taking into her own the hand that had been resting on
it, to press it again and again to her lips with ardent affection, "for
I shall not be satisfied with less than half a dozen."
Elsie gave them in quick succession, gathering her child in her arms and
making her rest her fair head on the maternal bosom, and Rosie felt a
warm tear fall on her cheek.
"Mamma!" she exclaimed in concerned surprise, "you are crying! What can
be the matter? have I said or done anything to grieve you, dear heart?"
reaching up an arm to clasp her mother's neck, while she scanned the
loved features with earnest, tender scrutiny.
For a minute or more there was no reply. Then Elsie said, in moved
tones, softly smoothing the hair back from Rosie's temples as she spoke,
and gazing tenderly down into her eyes, "My heart is sad for you, my
darling, because, while another year is rapidly drawing to a close, I
have yet no reason to hope that you have sought a refuge within the fold
of the good Shepherd who gives to his sheep eternal life; the dear
Saviour who has been all these years inviting you to come to him and be
saved."
"Mamma, I am very young yet," murmured Rosie, hanging her head and
blushing.
"Old enough to have become a disciple of Jesus years ago," her mother
said in sorrowful tones. "O my darling, give him the best years of your
life; the whole of your life, whether it be long or short. Is he not
worthy of it?"
"Yes, mamma; surely there can be only one answer to that and I do mean
to--to try to turn over a new leaf with the coming of the new year. But,
mamma, I know of a number of good Christians who didn't begin to be such
till they were many years older than I am. There is grandpa for one."
"Yes, my child," sighed her mother, "but he has always deeply regretted
having so long delayed beginning the Christian course--entering the
service of the dear Master whom now he loves better than wife or child
or any created being. There are many reasons, my darling, why delay is
both dangerous and unwise as well as basely ungrateful."
"You allude to the uncertainty of life, mamma?"
"Yes, and of the continuance of health and reason. How many have been
suddenly overtaken by fatal illness that at once robbed them of the
power to think, so that if preparation for the solemn realities of
another world had not been already made, the opportunity for so doing
was forever lost!
"There is also danger that God's Spirit may cease to strive with you,
and without His help you can not come to Christ.
"Nor do we know how soon Jesus may come again in the clouds of heaven.
He himself has told us that he will come as a thief in the night; that
is when he is not expected.
"But, Rosie, my dear child, even if you could know certainly that delay
will not cost you the loss of your soul, it will bring you other loss
great and irreparable."
"What, mamma?" Rosie asked with a look of mingled surprise and alarm. "I
can not think what you mean."
"While it is a precious truth that all who finally repent and accept of
Christ as their only Saviour, will inherit eternal life--a life of
holiness and unspeakable happiness at God's right hand," answered her
mother, "yet there will be a difference in the portions of those who
have spent many years in the faithful service of the Master--using their
time and talents for the advancement of his cause and kingdom, and
striving to win others to know and serve him, and themselves to grow in
grace and conformity to his likeness and his will--and that of others
who have been saved only at the last and so as by fire. All will be
perfectly happy but some will have a greater capacity for happiness than
others.
"According to the teachings of God's word sin is the greatest folly, the
service of God the highest wisdom.
"'Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice?... Riches
and honor are with me; yea, durable riches and righteousness. My fruit
is better than gold, yea, than fine gold; and my revenue than choice
silver!
"'They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and
they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars forever and ever.'
"Rosie, my darling, it is the dearest wish of my heart to see you
engaged in that work; but you cannot teach others what you do not know
yourself; you must first give your heart to God and learn for yourself
the sweetness of his love. Will you not do it now? at once? Oh listen to
his gracious invitation, 'Give me thine heart.'"
For some moments a deep and solemn hush seemed to fill the room, Rosie
still kneeling there with her head pillowed on her mother's breast,
Elsie's heart going up in an almost agonizing petition for her child.
At length Rosie lifted her head looking up into her mother's face with
dewy eyes and a very sweet smile.
"Mamma," she said in low tremulous tones, "I have tried to do it; I have
asked the Lord to forgive all my sins, to cleanse me from mine
iniquities, and to take me for his very own; and I think he has heard
and granted my petition.
"You know when the leper came to him saying, 'Lord, if thou wilt, thou
canst make me clean,' Jesus at once put forth his hand and touched him
saying, 'I will; be thou clean'; and immediately the leprosy departed
from him. Mamma, I have been praying the leper's prayer, and I think the
dear Lord Jesus has said the same words to me."
"I am sure of it," Elsie said with emotion, "for he is the unchangeable
God; 'Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever'; as ready
to be moved with compassion for a sin-sick soul to-day, as he was for the
leper when on earth. And he has said, 'Him that cometh to me I will in
no wise cast out.'"
Clasping her hands and looking upward, "Bless the Lord, O my soul," she
exclaimed; "'and all that is within me, bless his holy name!'"