“Does the road wind up hill all the way?”
“Yes, to the very end.”
“Will the day’s journey take the whole, long day?”
“From morn to night, my friend.”
—Christina G. Rossetti.
This same evening, in the March snow-storm, Nettie Evans sat in her
invalid chair beside the table in her chamber. Nettie had not grown up
in appearance; face and figure were slight, her cheeks were pale, her
eyes large and luminous; her laugh was as light-hearted as the laugh
of any girl in the village; her father often told her that she was the
busiest maiden in Bensalem.
Her busy times grew out of Mrs. Lane’s secret.
Nettie was the member of a society; the Shut-In Society. It was an
organized society; it published a magazine monthly: _The Open Window_,
with a motto upon its title-page:
“The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun.”
Since Mrs. Lane had told her about the Society and made her a member
she had thrown the windows of her soul wide open to the sun.
_And the Lord shut him in_, was the motto of the Society. Nettie had
marked the precious words in her Bible with the date of her accident,
and another date: the day when she became a member of the Shut-In
Society.
_The Open Window_ had come in to-night’s mail; Nettie had been
counting the hours until mail time, and laughed a joyful little laugh
all to herself when she heard her father say to her mother in the
hall below: “It’s mail time, and I must go to the office to-night,
storm or no storm; Nettie will not sleep a wink unless she has her
magazine.”
It was her feast every month. The members and associates numbered
hundreds and hundreds, Nettie did not know how many; and they were
all around the world. Nettie herself had had a letter from the
Sandwich Islands: the magazine was sent to a leper colony, but she
would never dare to write a letter to such a place. With every fresh
magazine she read the object and aim of the Society:—
“This Association shall be called the Shut-in Society, and shall
consist of Members and Associates. Its object shall be: To relieve
the weariness of the sick-room by sending and receiving letters and
other tokens of remembrance; to testify to the love and presence of
Christ in the hour of suffering and privation; to pray for one
another at set times: daily, at the twilight hour, and weekly on
Tuesday morning at ten o’clock; to stimulate faith, hope, patience,
and courage in fellow-sufferers by the study and presentation of
Bible promises.
“To be a sufferer, shut in from the outside world, constitutes one a
proper candidate for membership in this Society. All members are
requested to send with their application, if possible, the name of
their pastor or their physician, or of some Associate of the Society,
as introduction; and no name should be forwarded for membership until
the individual has been consulted and consent obtained. If able,
members are expected to pay 50 cents yearly for The Open Window. Any
who are unable will please inform the Secretary.
“As this is not an almsgiving society, its members are requested not
to apply for money or other material aid to the officers, Associates,
or other members. Any assistance which can be given in the way of
remunerative work will be cheerfully rendered.
“Members are not to urge upon any one in the Society the peculiar
belief of any particular sect or denomination.
“Associate members are not themselves invalids, but, being in tender
sympathy with the suffering, volunteer in this ministry of love for
Jesus’ sake.”
Mrs. Lane had been an Associate member from the time of the
organization of the Society in 1877. Jean Draper Prince, coming to
Nettie’s chamber upon the Shut-In’s last birthday, and finding her
with a tableful and lapful of mail packages, had told her that Mrs.
Lane had given her the biggest “outing” any girl in the village ever
had.
Nettie had fifteen regular correspondents, and never a week passed
that she was not touched by an appeal for letters and did not write
an extra letter to some one not on her “list.” The wool slippers in
her work-basket she had finished to-day for a Shut-In birthday gift
next month. Every night in her prayer she gave thanks for the
blessings that widened and brightened her life through “the dear
Shut-In Society.”
As she sat reading her magazine, too deep in it to hear a sound,
light feet ran up the narrow stairway. She did not lift her eyes
until Pet Draper, Jean’s youngest sister, pushed the door open.
“Why, Pet,” she exclaimed. “Are you out in this storm?”
“No,” laughed Pet, “I am _in_ in this storm. I came to stay all
night.”
“I shouldn’t think you _would_ want to go out again to-night.”
“Oh, it isn’t so bad. The snow is light. Joe brought me,” she said,
with sudden meaning in her tones.
“Did he?” asked Nettie, absently; “just let me read you this. ‘This
lady walked forty steps to go out to tea—for the first time in
thirty-two years.’ I wonder if I shall ever go out to tea.”
“Nettie, you shall come to my wedding.”
“Pet!” exclaimed Nettie, in delight and surprise.
“Yes. And I came to tell you. I told Joe tonight I would marry him,”
she said, laughing and coloring.
“I’m so glad. I’m so _glad_,” repeated Nettie; “he is so good and
kind.”
“He is as good as David Prince any day. Jean needn’t put on airs
because he was only a farm boy. He is more than that now. Mr. Brush
has promised to build a little house just opposite his house, across
the road, and Joe is not to be paid wages, but to take the farm on
shares. Plenty of people do that. Mr. Brush says he is his
right-hand. Father will furnish our house—it will not take much.
Perhaps some day Joe will have a farm of his own. My father had to
earn his farm, and that’s why the mortgage isn’t off yet. Joe has
saved some money, and so have I. Agnes Trembly will try to give me
her customers when she is married; she always speaks a good word for
me. I’ve made dresses for Mrs. Brush and Judith and Miss Marion.”
“And wrappers for me,” said Nettie.
“Yes, I shall always have you to make my fortune.”
“That is splendid, and I am so glad. But here’s my letter in the
_Open Window_: do let me read it to you.”
Pet laughed, and listened. She believed Nettie liked the Shut-In
Society as well as having a new little house and a husband. Nettie
would have told her she liked it better.
While Pet slept her happy, healthful sleep that night, after her
somewhat hurried two minutes of kneeling to pray, Nettie lay
peacefully awake remembering the “requests for prayer” in her _Open
Window_.
“Our prayers are earnestly asked for an aged man, who has lost the
home of his childhood, that he may feel that God does it for the best
and may love God. Also a lady whose life is very sad, that she may
look up to God and rejoice in him.
“Pray for one who fears blindness, that if possible it may be
averted, but if it must be, in the midst of darkness there may be the
light of God’s countenance.
“Let us remember the sorrowing hearts from whom sisters or parents or
children have been taken by death.
“One long a sufferer from disease, asks us to pray that if it be
God’s will she may be healed.
“One who feels that answers to our prayers have been granted, asks
that we still pray that the use of his limbs may be restored and that
a beloved mother may long be spared to him.”
“One of our number writes, ‘Pray that father and the children may be
saved and that mother and I love God better.’ It is hard sometimes
for Christians so to live that unconverted members of the family be
drawn by their lives toward Christ. This mother and daughter truly
need our prayers.
“One of our band is trying to build up a church in a lonely spot. She
asks us to pray God’s help for her.”
Nettie’s outing went out farther than anyone knew. She could tell
about her gifts and her letters, but never about her intercession.
“I wonder,” she planned, “if I couldn’t have a little Fair; all the
girls would do something; I have so little money to give. I couldn’t
go—unless I have it in my room.”
She wanted to wake Pet to talk about it, but that would be selfish,
and then—Pet might be cross.
She fell asleep beside the strong young girl who lent her life from
her own vitality; the full, breathing lips, the warm cheeks, the head
with its masses of auburn hair, the touch of the hand upon her own
were all life giving. Nettie loved girls; the girls who were what she
might have been.
Awaking out of restless sleep, she remembered the Midnight Circle to
pray for the sleepless, and prayed: “Father, give them all sleep, if
thou wilt; but, if thy will be not so, give them all _something
better than sleep_.”