THE VISITOR.
Rapidly, happily, the weeks flew by at Dr. Vale's cottage: there
seemed to be a new spirit at work there. Lucy no longer looked sad
and drooping: there was always a bright face to welcome her return
from school, and some one to listen to her account of the occurrences
of the day. If her lessons were difficult, Rosa was always ready to
explain them, and to encourage her to more persevering study. By
degrees, Lucy was learning to share all her feelings with her sister.
Sometimes Rosa found these confidences rather tiresome, but she never
checked them, as she Was anxious that Lucy should speak to her
without restraint, that they might be able to talk freely on the most
important of subjects.
Many of Lucy's fears seemed to have passed away without effort as she
became more cheerful; others she had been enabled to conquer by
Rosa's kind advice; but the great secret of the new courage that she
seemed acquiring, was found in the few words, "God is with me, God
loves me," which were seldom far from Lucy's mind.
At first she could not help feeling that when she had done wrong, God
had ceased to love her. Then Rosa would read to her passages from
the Bible where the Saviour speaks of having come to save sinners,
and would remind her, again and again, that she was God's own child.
"God made you, my dear Lucy," she would frequently say; "and He loves
everything that He has made, and 'would not that any of His little
ones should perish.' Christ has died that you may be forgiven; He
has promised to receive all that truly come unto Him; His child you
were made in Baptism, and His child you are glad to be; then why
should you fear?"
"It seems so strange that God is willing to forgive me so often,"
Lucy would reply, "I can hardly believe it."
"It is, indeed, most wonderful; but for Christ's sake His poor erring
followers are received, if they truly repent," would Rosa answer.
"I wish I could be perfect in a minute," said Lucy, one day; "I get
tired of trying."
"When Christ has done so much for us that wo may share His happy home
in heaven, we ought to be willing to stay here as long as He pleases,
and strive to follow His example. If we prayed more earnestly for
God to assist us, we should find it easier to do right; for God gives
His Holy Spirit freely to them that ask Him. If you can constantly
remember that God is with you, you will soon learn to turn to Him
when you are tempted," answered Rosa.
Lucy thought that Rosa had no trouble to do right always; but it was
a mistake. Many times hasty words came to Rosa's lips, and unkind
thoughts were offered to her mind; but they wore followed so quickly
by the effort to subdue them, and the prayer for aid, that they never
were made known to those around her.
Cold winter weather had come: it seemed to make Harty only the more
full of life and spirits. When he came in from the keen air, there
was always a bustle in the circle round the fire. Sometimes he would
lay his cold hands suddenly on Lucy's neck, and shout with laughter
as she shivered and drew away; sometimes Rosa's cheeks got rubbed
with a snow-ball until they were redder than usual; and almost always
the noisy fellow was reproved by Mrs. Maxwell for bringing in so much
snow or mud on his boots.
Yet Rosa was learning to love her rough brother very dearly, and she
even fancied she could see some improvement in him. After a long
talk with his sister, he would be more gentle and quiet for a few
days; but soon some trifle would throw him into a passion, and all
his goodness departed. He was so accustomed to speaking rudely to
Lucy, that he never thought of it afterwards; yet he was mortified
when in his fits of passion he had been unkind to Rosa.
She never seemed to retain any remembrance of his fault, but was
ready to meet him pleasantly again as soon as his bad humour had
passed away.
He could not help admiring her noble spirit; and every day he felt
more and more sure that there was some strength in the principles
that could keep a high-spirited girl like Rosa uniformly gentle.
By degrees Harty took less pleasure in teasing Lucy, and more
happiness in her society. She had followed Rosa's hints, and tried
not to be vexed and hurt by trifles, and really was becoming more
interesting as she grew more cheerful and talkative.
Dr. Vale was still obliged to be very much away from home, but the
time that he could spend with his family he greatly enjoyed; and he
often rejoiced that Rosa had been brought home to throw around her
such an atmosphere of sunshine.
Even Mrs. Maxwell had relaxed a little from her stiffness: she
occasionally allowed Rosa to put Harty's room in order at first, and
finally she gave up that charge entirely to her. This arrangement
prevented much disturbance, for Rosa handled carefully the veriest
trash, which she knew had value in Harty's eyes; and there were no
more broken cobwebs to put him out of temper.
Often, when Mrs. Maxwell was weary, she found a comfortable chair
placed for her by the fire; when her eyes were painful at night,
unasked, Rosa would read the daily paper aloud. Such trifling
attentions were very grateful to the faithful housekeeper, and it
soon became a favourite joke with Harty to call Rosa "Mrs. Maxwell's
pet."
As regularly as Saturday came, little Judy appeared, leading Larry by
the hand, for he was now nearly two years old, and a fine healthy boy.
Lucy often wished that she could stay in the room with Rosa and Judy,
but the latter could never attend to her sewing while her little
brother was in her presence. She was constantly stopping to bid him
say, "Thank ye" to the lady, or shame him for running about as if he
were as much at home as the ladies.
Lucy found it very easy to amuse Larry, and before long she grew fond
of him, and looked forward with pleasure to his Saturday visit.
With Harty's consent, and Mrs. Maxwell's valuable assistance, some of
his old clothes were "cut down" for Larry, and he was warmly dressed
in a good great-coat and cap, that delighted him exceedingly, though
Judy could not help laughing when she first saw him in them.
Judy learned much more than the use of the needle from Rosa. As she
sat sewing, Rosa taught her many sweet hymns and passages from
Scripture, and led her to look to her kind Heavenly Father as a
friend who would "never leave nor forsake her."
The short winter days and the long winter evenings soon passed away.
One bright spring morning Lucy was looking at the hyacinths that were
blooming beside the cottage wall, when she heard a footstep, and,
turning round, she saw a stranger standing beside her. Once she
would have started away like a frightened bird; but now she did not
think of herself, but waited politely until the stranger should
announce his errand.
"The flowers are peeping forth again; I see you love them," he said,
cheerfully; "and what a place this is for birds; I never heard such a
twittering. Are there any robins in the old nest at the bottom of
the garden?"
"Oh yes, they have come," answered Lucy, wondering who could know so
well about the robin's nest.
"We ought to be friends, Lucy," continued the stranger's pleasant
voice, "for I could hush you when you were a baby, when nobody else
could make you stop crying. You were a fat little thing then, and
you are not so very much heavier now." And he jumped the little girl
high in the air.
Lucy by this time had made up her mind, that whoever the stranger
might be, she liked him.
"Can it be uncle Gillette?" she had once thought to herself; but she
immediately decided that it was not he, as she had always imagined
him very stern, with large black eyes, and the stranger's face was
mild and cheerful, and his eyes were of a soft hazel.
"I have more little friends in the house," said the gentleman, and
with Lucy's hand in his, he entered the door. Rosa was half-way down
stairs; she caught one glimpse of the stranger, and then gave a
flying leap, which nearly brought her to his side.
"Oh! uncle Gillette, I am so glad to see you," she said, as he bent
to kiss her, apparently as delighted as herself.
Harty came out to see what was the cause of all this commotion, and
was greeted with a cordial shake of the hand, and the address, "I
hope Harty has not forgotten his old playfellow, uncle Gillette."
The children thought their father welcomed their uncle somewhat
coldly; but they changed their minds when they found that he had been
expecting him for several days, and had accompanied him from the
station to the gate.
Lucy had supposed that she should be very much afraid of Mr.
Gillette, as she knew that he was very learned and good; but she
found him as mild and simple as a little child, and she was most
happy to take the low stool he placed for her at his side, and look
into his pleasant face, while she listened to his conversation.
She was heartily sorry when she heard him say that he was to leave on
Monday morning, for as it was Saturday, they would have but a short
visit from him.
There was no settled clergyman at Chatford at this time, the rector
being absent for the benefit of his health. On this account a long
time had passed since the children of the parish had been catechised
in the church. There was therefore no small bustle among the little
people when it was announced on the Sunday morning after Mr.
Gillette's arrival, that the children would be called upon to recite
the Catechism that afternoon, immediately after the service.
There was much buzzing and studying at noon; and many a boy was
astonished that he had forgotten what was once so familiar to him, in
the long interval which had passed since the last catechising.
Even Lucy was glad to study over what she called the "long answers,"
although she never failed to repeat them with her brother and sister
every Sunday evening. She did not dare to lay her Prayer Book aside
until Rosa had patiently heard her say the whole Catechism, and
pronounced it perfectly learned.
Many young hearts that had palpitated with fear at the idea of
reciting to a stranger, were reassured when the Rev. Mr. Gillette
arose after the Evening Service, and said, "The children may now come
up to the chancel."
Without a thought that any one was observing her, Lucy stepped out
and joined the throng of boys and girls that were moving up the
aisle. Julia Staples was tittering in the pew behind, and Judy
M'Grath was walking at her side; but she did not see either of them;
she felt that she was in God's holy temple, and about to perform a
solemn duty, and she inwardly prayed that she might be able to
understand and improve by Mr. Gillette's explanations.
The children were allowed to recite together, and their voices joined
in a full chorus, as they answered correctly all the questions of the
Catechism. Glances of triumph and congratulation passed from eye to
eye as they finished, or not once had they faltered, even in the most
difficult parts.
"What is the Catechism?" asked Mr. Gillette.
"It is a preparation for Confirmation," answered one of the boys.
"You have all recited the Catechism perfectly; are you then prepared
to be confirmed?" said Mr. Gillette.
There was no answer for a moment, and all looked confused; at length
there was a faint "No."
"I fear not," continued Mr. Gillette: "how, then, must you say this
Catechism before you are ready to be confirmed?"
"We must speak it from the heart," said Judy M'Grath.
Some of the boys smiled at her Irish accent, but one glance from Mr.
Gillette sobered them.
"Right! When do you take upon yourselves the promises made for you
by your sponsors in Baptism?" he asked.
"At Confirmation," several replied.
"True," said Mr. Gillette, "at Confirmation you take these promises
publicly upon yourselves. I see many before me," said he, looking
tenderly about him, "who are too young for Confirmation, but hardly a
child who is not old enough to make those solemn promises to God in
private, and strive earnestly to keep them. Do not wait, my dear
children, until you are old enough to be confirmed, before you
promise to love and obey the Saviour who has redeemed you. Your
sponsors laid you as infants on His bosom; turn not from Him with
your first feeble footsteps. You were made members of Christ at
Baptism; ask God this day to help you to live as the lambs of His
flock. If you commence now to strive to keep your baptismal
promises, Confirmation will indeed be, as it ought, a strengthening
of you in all that is good, an assistance in leading that holy life
which becomes the children of God, the members of Christ, and the
inheritors of the kingdom of heaven.
"Let me ask you once more, Do you not believe that you are bound to
believe and do as your sponsors promised for you? Let me hear that
answer again, and may God give you strength to speak it from the
heart."
"Yes, verily, and by God's help so I will; and I heartily thank our
Heavenly Father that He has called me to this state of salvation,
through Jesus Christ our Lord," was heard from the throng around the
chancel.
Even those who stood nearest to Lucy could hardly hear her voice; no
human friend saw her uplifted eye; but God, who seeth all hearts,
accepted the vow she made in His holy temple, and she felt more fully
than she had ever done before, that she was indeed the child of God.
Lucy was not the only child who had listened earnestly to Mr.
Gillette. It was the last time that he ever addressed those
children; but there will be those at the resurrection who will thank
him for the words he spoke that day: good resolutions were then
roused in young hearts, which strengthened until they became strong
principles, which supported through life, sustained in death, and
were perfected in heaven.