THE INVITATION ACCEPTED.
MRS. Crook was not given to regretting her loneliness, but on that
afternoon she experienced an unusual longing for companionship. Having
no one else at hand, she called Fanny into the parlour, and gave her
some sewing to do which would require her own personal supervision.
When the girl was fairly at work, she began to question her as to the
beginning of her acquaintance with Miss Lawton.
Delighted at the unusual interest shown by her mistress, Fanny told
how, when she was a headstrong troublesome girl, the young lady
persuaded her to join her class at the Sunday-school, though she had
refused to go when her mother wished her.
"I went once and never meant to go any more, but there was no standing
against Miss Lawton's kind words and sweet ways. Mother always said I
was one that might be led, but never driven, and it was true. I felt
that first afternoon that I would not miss a chance of being with my
new teacher for the world. She was so different from other people, for
mostly they did nothing but tell me how naughty I was, and how I should
be certain to get paid back in one way or other."
"What did Miss Lawton say?" asked Mrs. Crook eagerly.
"Instead of telling me what a sinner I was, she told me how God, by
His Holy Spirit, had shown her how sinful she herself was. 'He made me
look into my heart, Fanny,' she said, 'and let me see that it was full
of pride and selfishness. He had given me loving parents, who had no
greater pleasure than to use their means to gratify my wishes and make
me happy. I had all the good things of this world, yet I was neither
thankful to God nor my parents, though I was proud because I had them.
They did not make me really happy. No one can be who does not try to
make others so, and I was so taken up with self that I had not a bit of
room in my heart, either for love to God or my neighbour.'"
If Fanny could have known how her simple story, the mere repetition
of her teacher's words, was being used as a means of enlightening
the heart of her mistress, she would have rejoiced, though almost
with trembling. But it was Mrs. Crook's voice which was tremulous, as
she said, almost in a whisper, "Go on, Fanny," while another voice
seemed to speak within her and ask, "Is not this word-picture a fair
description of your state to-day? What room have you in your heart,
either for God or your neighbour?"
"Miss Lawton said that when she was shown her state as a poor helpless
sinner with nothing good in herself, and nothing to offer to God,
she was very miserable. But soon, by the same blessed teaching, she
learned how God in His great love for poor sinners had given His dear
Son to live for their example, and then to die in order to buy pardon,
cleansing, peace, and eternal life too, for those who had deserved
nothing but death. Oh, how glad it made her! Faith was given her to
believe in Jesus, as the one and only Saviour, and the thought of all
He had done for her, made her love him, and want to be a true child and
servant of God, and to speak about His love to those who did not care
for Him, or for their own souls."
Tears were in Fanny's eyes as she spoke, but her face was bright, and
her tone told of a glad heart within.
"How can you remember all this?" asked Mrs. Crook.
"I can never forget if, ma'am," replied Fanny. "It was through Miss
Lawton telling me about herself, that I found out my need of a Saviour,
and found that, though God had loved me always, and given His dear Son
to die for me, I had never loved Him or tried to do one thing for His
sake. I did learn to believe in Jesus, and I do want to love and serve
Him, but—"
"But what, Fanny?"
"The best I can do is so little, and I am always falling short of what
even I should like. What a blessing it is that we are not saved by what
we do ourselves, but by what Jesus has done for us!"
Fanny's feelings had carried her out of herself. She had spoken from
her heart, forgetful of the distance, usually carefully preserved,
between her mistress and herself; forgetful of harsh words, unjust
fault-findings, of everything in short, save of what had been done for
her own soul, by her Saviour, and of the wish that Mrs. Crook might be
led to believe in Him also.
She felt as if she could not utter another word, but Mrs. Crook could
see that her little maid's fingers trembled, so that she could scarcely
guide the needle, and that more than once she had to wipe away her
tears.
Mrs. Crook was far from being comfortable herself. She was strangely
stirred by Fanny's simple words. She had always said that the girl was
very soft-hearted, and that her tears lay too near her eyes, but just
now she liked her better for these things. They were part and parcel
of a tenderer nature than she had ever before been brought in contact
with, and Fanny had proved herself kind and unselfish.
It was quite contrary to Mrs. Crook's practice to say a word of praise
to one of her handmaidens, but something moved her to tell Fanny that
she was very well pleased with the way in which she did her work.
"Is it because you love Jesus that you do things as well when my back
is turned, as when I am looking at you?" she asked.
"It is only since I learned to love Him that I cared much about
pleasing mother, first, and then my mistress," said Fanny. "If you are
away, I say to myself, 'God sees, God knows,' and if I am inclined to
be idle or careless, I pray for help not to give in."
Mrs. Crook asked no more questions just then, and Fanny plied her
needle in silence until the arrival of the milk-boy called her to
answer the door. Then work had to be put away and tea got ready, but
the little talk was not forgotten. It had given Mrs. Crook plenty to
think about, and made the girl much happier, since it had brought her
mistress nearer to her.
"I hope," thought the latter, "the girl will not take liberties,
because I have made more free with her than usual this afternoon."
Perhaps Fanny divined what was passing through her mind, for Mrs. Crook
noted with pleasure that she was, if possible, more respectful and
quiet in manner than before.
A little later in the evening Mrs. Crook told her maid that she felt
rather afraid to accept Miss Lawton's invitation.
"I know," she said, "that doctors do not like for sick people to be
agitated by many callers. It does them harm, instead of good, and it is
not as if I was a relation or a particular friend of the young lady.
But I do like her, and I should love to see her once more, only I would
not be the means of doing her harm to please myself."
Here was a new thing! Mrs. Crook thinking more of what would be good
for another than of what would be pleasing to herself.
"I do not think you need be afraid of going, ma'am," replied Fanny.
"Miss Lawton scarcely sees anybody but her own family, only she wished
so particularly to see you that the doctor gave in, and let her send
that message by me."
Mrs. Crook was again silent for some time; Fanny's reply had given her
another problem to solve.
Why was Miss Lawton anxious to see her above other people? She could
have nothing to gain by it; she had already everything this world could
give, and was likely to be called away from it ere long.
Why should she care about a mere acquaintance, made through an old
Sunday scholar?
Had she nothing to gain, Mrs. Crook? It might seem not to you, but
the young disciple of Jesus was longing to win one more soul for her
Master. She knew how vain had been the efforts of others to obtain a
hearing for Him. She knew how you, a woman, so much older than herself,
had turned a deaf ear to the warning voice from the pulpit, the loving
invitations of those who wished you well, and to the message contained
in God's Word. And she thought, "Perhaps the sight of one so young as I
am, standing on the very brink of the grave, yet strong in the strength
of Him who has deprived it of victory, and taken the sting from death,
may prove a silent sermon to poor Mrs. Crook."
It was this plea which had overcome the objections of those who feared
that the invalid might suffer from receiving such a visitor, and gained
permission for the invitation to be sent.
It set Mrs. Crook thinking and wondering, but she obeyed the summons,
and to the latest day of her life she will thank God that she did so.
It was not without some trepidation that she entered the sick girl's
room. She had always associated gloomy thoughts with illness, and
shrank from everything suggestive of coming death. But there was
nothing gloomy about that room or the principal figure in it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]