GUY OR CHRIST.
THERE are times when the soul isolates itself and is with God only;
although in the midst of a multitude. Then, although seeming alone, it
has companionship, it is not lonely. And there are hours of heart-felt
loneliness, though surrounded by a crowd, when no look, word or touch of
another can reach our hearts, so separated are we.
Agnes had felt all this, but never before did she feel such a complete
and painful separation as when the door had closed and she was left.
Ruth had made a sacrifice for Guy. She knew it must have been very hard
to do it, and only her love for him could have induced her to go. But
Ruth did not love him better than she. He would not understand that,
and would think that want of love had prevented her from yielding. But
O, if he could see her heart, if he could know how willingly she would
give up her life for him, how gladly she would sacrifice everything but
principle to satisfy him.
"And I can't tell him," she thought; "he would not understand it, but
think I was trying to excuse myself, for we never talk like other
brothers and sisters about our love for one another." Then came the
question, "Why must I suffer and be misunderstood, when Ruth can act
differently?" But again the voice was heard that ever brought calm and
sweet assurance, saying, "Is this your love for me? He that loveth
father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me, but he that loseth
his life for my sake shall find it."
"O yes," was the response, "I would do a great deal for love of Guy, but
more, far more for love of Jesus;" and so for His love she was willing
to lose even Guy's love for a time if necessary, and could bear to be
misunderstood if the Saviour trusted her. There was no shrinking from
the thought of telling Him; no fear of being misunderstood there, so
kneeling down, she poured forth the story. There were not many words,
for as sometimes in opening our heart to a friend, we look up and catch
a glance which tells us there is no need of further explanation, so she
looked and felt that she was understood.
Earnestly she plead for her brother and sister. That _he_ might soon
learn to walk in other paths, and that _she_ might lean more fully on
Christ and less on her own understanding.
One thing perplexed her; that was whether she had better remain up until
Guy and Ruth returned, and if she did, how she ought to act. It would
not do to ask them about the performance, as that would revive
unpleasant thoughts; and if she did not speak at all, they might think
her in an ill humor. But she determined not to let this disturb her, the
Lord, she knew, would help her to do right when the time came.
"Well, I declare! if she is not sitting up waiting for us," exclaimed
Guy, quite gaily, with no sign of displeasure in tone or manner.
"Weren't you dull? Confess now that you cried a little because you did
not go? Look at her eyes, Ruth, didn't she?"
Not appearing to notice his last remark, Ruth playfully reminded her of
her newly-formed resolution to rise at an earlier hour than heretofore,
and told her to be sure and call _her_ when breakfast was ready, for she
was so sleepy she did not know when she should waken. Agnes
good-naturedly promised to do so, provided she was awake herself, and
ran up stairs, glad to escape from her brother. Ruth followed her in a
few minutes, and going over to the dressing glass stood looking in. "How
well you look to-night, Ruth," said Agnes admiringly. "I do not think I
ever saw you with such a brilliant color. Did you enjoy yourself?" The
question was put hesitatingly, as if she was not sure whether to put it
or not.
"No, did you think I could? I can't even tell you what the play was, my
brain was in such a whirl. But I laughed and talked and Guy was
satisfied."
She sighed wearily as she laid aside her ornaments, and the tempter ever
ready to take advantage, whispered to Agnes, "_She_ suffers for her
brother's sake, but _you_ will not."
"No, not even for Guy, if it displeases the Lord. I must not let this
move me," was the quick response.
There was no more said by the sisters that night. Agnes longed to help
Ruth back to peace of mind, but Ruth did not seem disposed to enter into
conversation, so there was only one way in which to do it, and her
sister's case was given over to the One who alone can ease the burdened
conscience, and Agnes slept undisturbed.
Ruth knelt as usual before retiring, but she could not reach up through
faith to grasp the blessed promises; something kept her down and widened
the distance between her and the Saviour. No sweet assurance came, for
there had been other thoughts before those of pleasing Him. She had
acted according to her own judgment and pursued the course she thought
best. She had not the comfort of knowing that He directed her paths,
because she had not in all her ways acknowledged Him.
"I think it is the hardest thing I have to overcome, Ruth," said Agnes,
as she came down quite late and found breakfast ready. She felt
condemned and dissatisfied with herself, not knowing what to do, having
prayed about it so often.
"How do you pray?" inquired Ruth, rather amused at her sister's
distress.
"Why, I ask the Lord in faith to help me to get up."
"That is, you expect the Lord to set you right out on the floor?"
"O, Ruth, you are making fun."
"Indeed, I am in earnest; that seems to be what you expect. Now if I
prayed about it, I should ask that I might have my senses about me when
I was called, so that I might think what I ought to do, and _do_ it.
That is about as much as the Lord will do, and then if we fail, the
fault is our own."
"Will you call me to-morrow whenever you waken, Ruth? I must have been
making a mistake all along."
After that there was no more difficulty, and Ruth told her she was to be
envied, having overcome her last failing.
"I wish I had," was the earnest reply, "but I have any number of faults
that you do not see."
"Then I should not call them by such a hard name, if they were modest
enough not to thrust themselves out to public gaze."
"You would not? It is only grace that keeps them within bounds, and I am
quite as conscious of them as if they were seen. They do not, however,
overcome me as they might if others saw them. But after all, Ruth, I
think we often call things faults in others, that would be virtues, if
we knew more of their lives and the motives that prompted their
conduct."
"It is probable," said her sister, "but there is not much of this
getting to understand each other's natures. There is not enough trouble
taken to find one another out."
[Illustration: Decoration]