DRAWN ASIDE
[Illustration] THE subject of the preceding conversation had been so
exceedingly solemn that even little Elsie had a grave look of awe on
her round rosy face, though she could understand but little of the
great mysteries of which her mother had been speaking. Elsie could only
gather that a type was like a picture of something much greater and
more wondrous than itself, and said in her simple, childish way, "Is
not a type like your very tiny photo, mamma, so little that we could
not make out that there was any picture at all till we held it up to
the light, and then we could see the Queen's great palace quite plain?"
"Elsie has given us a type of a type!" cried Lucius clapping his little
sister on the shoulder.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Agnes.
Lucius was puzzled to explain his own meaning, which was perhaps not
very clear to himself, so his mother came to his help.
"Elsie's very minute photograph is not a bad illustration of what Bible
types are," she remarked. "They look small, and might almost escape
notice, until the eye of faith sees them in the clear light of God's
Word, and then what seemed little more than a speck, may be found to be
a likeness of something grander far than a royal palace."
"It would be interesting to find out some other Bible types," observed
Agnes.
"I was just going to propose that while I attend afternoon service you
should all occupy the time of my absence in each finding a type, which
we can talk over in the evening," said Mrs. Temple.
"I should like that!" cried Lucius. "I am glad of anything to make the
afternoon less dull; for I know that as it is damp to-day we shall all
have to keep within bounds," he added, Agnes having just begun a fit of
coughing.
"I should like to find a Bible type if I could, but I'm afraid that I
am too stupid," said Amy.
"You and me, we'll try together," cried Elsie, laying her plump dimpled
hand on that of her sister.
"Ah! You think that union is strength, Pussie!" cried Lucius. "And that
you two youngest of the party will together be a match for any one of
the rest."
Little Elsie's brain had now been quite long enough on the stretch,
and after jumping upon her mother's knee to give her "a good tight
kiss," the child ran off to play with her Noah's Ark. The family then
dispersed to various parts of the house, soon to reassemble at the
cheerful sound of the dinner-bell.
After Mrs. Temple had started for church, Lucius, Agnes, and Amy took
up their Bibles to search in them for types, while little Elsie amused
herself with a book of Scripture pictures. Dora went to the room called
the study, in which the children usually learned their lessons in the
morning and amused themselves in the evening, and in which they kept
their workboxes and desks, and most of their books. Dora found no one
in the study, and seated herself near the side table, covered with
green cloth, on which stood her neat little workbox.
"Of course I am not going to do one stitch of my embroidery to-day,
because this is Sunday," said Dora to herself. "But there can be no
harm in just looking at my pretty pattern, and seeing whether it is
likely to do for the inner curtains and veil."
Dora opened the box, and took out the pattern which lay on the neatly
folded piece of linen which her mother had given to her just before the
twins had gone upstairs to bed. She admired her own pattern, which was
really drawn out with some skill, but she saw that it was not quite
perfect. Her pencil lay close at hand, and Dora could not, or did not,
resist the temptation to put in a few touches to this and that part of
the drawing.
"I wonder how I should arrange the colours," she thought; "I wish that
I had more scarlet in my reel, and I think that my blue skein is too
dark; Agnes has some sky-blue sewing silk, I know. Perhaps that would
be better, or both shades might have a pretty effect, mixed with the
scarlet and purple."
Dora took out her reels and skeins, and placed them beside her pattern,
and tried to imagine the effect of the different combinations of
colour. Would it be well for the cherubim to be worked in purple
or blue, or entirely in thread of gold, like their wings? Dora was
inclined to think the last plan best, only gold thread is so stiff, and
difficult to manage.
[Illustration: "WHAT IS ALL THIS, MY CHILDREN?" ASKED MRS. TEMPLE.]
"I shall never go to rest till I have made up my mind about this,"
muttered Dora to herself, "and how can I decide what will suit best
till I try? And why should I not try?" Dora, with her coloured silks
before her, was, like Eve, looking at the forbidden fruit, and
listening to the voice of the Tempter, who would persuade her that evil
was good. "There are some things which even mamma says are quite lawful
to be done on Sundays, such as charitable works. Mamma herself dressed
the cook's scalded arm upon a Sunday, and put in a stitch or two to
keep the bandages firm. That was surely sewing on a Sunday, but then
that was a work of charity. Well, but mine is a work of charity, too."
Thus Dora went on, while the dangerous current of inclination was
gradually drifting her on towards breaking, in act, the Fourth
Commandment, which she had all day long been breaking in thought.
"Our Tabernacle is to be the model of a holy—a very holy thing, just
the kind of thing which it is right to think about on Sunday. Then it
is to be made for a very charitable purpose. I am sure that bandaging
the cook's arm is no better work than helping a ragged school; I don't
think that it is really as good, for aunt's poor little pupils are
taught to love God and read the Bible. No, it surely cannot be wrong to
assist such an excellent work on any day in the seven."
Dora unrolled a length of blue silk, took out a needle and threaded
it. She had almost succeeded in silencing conscience, at least for a
time; she had almost persuaded herself that in amusing herself she
was helping a holy cause; and that God would not be displeased at her
breaking His commandment, because she was going to work for the poor.
There is, perhaps, no more dangerous error than to think that the end
justifies the means—that it is lawful to a Christian to do evil that
good may come.
Oh, dear young reader! If you ever find yourself trying to quiet
conscience by the thought that to do a great good you may do a little
harm, start back as if you caught sight of the trail of a snake in your
path! Yes, for the serpent who deceived Eve is trying to deceive you
also.
If Dora had been honest and candid with herself, she would have seen,
as her fingers busily plied the needle, that she was really working for
her own pleasure, that her embroidering a piece of linen was an utterly
different thing from her mother's bandaging a badly-scalded arm, and
relieving a sufferer's pain. To cases of necessity such as that, the
Saviour's words truly applied—"It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath
day;" but there was nothing to justify Dora in following her own
inclination, and working on the day appointed for holy worship and rest.
If there was really no harm in what she was doing, why was it that Dora
started so when she heard her mother's voice at the door of the study,
and why did she so hurriedly thrust linen, pattern, and silks back into
the workbox as Mrs. Temple entered the room?
Dora's back was turned towards the door, so that, from her being
between it and the table, Mrs. Temple could not see the cause of the
little bustling movement which she noticed on coming into the study.
"What are you doing, my love?" she asked.
"Nothing," answered Dora quickly, as she succeeded in shutting down the
lid of her workbox. The word was uttered in haste, without reflection;
but the instant after it had passed her lips, a pang shot through the
young girl's heart, for she was aware that, perhaps for the first time
in her life, she had uttered a downright falsehood.
Conscience could be silenced no longer; the second sin into which Dora
had been drawn by her fear showed her in a strong light the nature of
the first, into which she had been drawn by her love of amusement. If
she had not been doing what was wrong, she would not have been afraid
lest her occupation should be found out by her tender, indulgent mother.
Mrs. Temple never doubted the word of one of her children, but she
could not help thinking that the manner of Dora was strange, and she
would probably have inquired further into its cause, had she not just
then been followed into the study by Lucius. The boy had his Bible in
his hand, and a thoughtful, perplexed look on his face, which Mrs.
Temple noticed at once. Dora was glad that her mother's attention
should be drawn by anything from herself, for otherwise she could not
have hidden her confusion. She seated herself on a stool by the window,
with her face turned away from her mother, and there remained a silent
listener to the following conversation between Mrs. Temple and her son.
Whether that conversation was likely to make Dora's conscience easier
or not, I leave the reader to judge.