AN UNEXPECTED TRIAL.
David Netherclift ushered Owen into a small, but cheerful and
brightly-lighted mission-hall. The place was nearly full, but they found
comfortable seats, and the service almost immediately commenced. The
singing was hearty, and the speaker's manner so earnest and manly that
Owen's attention was gained even before he began to preach. But when he
read out his text, the boy listened still more earnestly, for the words
seemed to have some reference to the fortune he so eagerly desired.
Slowly and deliberately they were read out: "Ye know the grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ, that, though He was rich, yet for your sakes He
became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich."
"You see here," began the speaker, "that One who was rich gave up His
wealth, and became a poor man that you, poor men, women, and children,
might become rich. It was a wonderful thing to do, for it was not only
that He gave up home and comfort and wealth for poor people, but for
those who cared nothing for Him, even for His enemies. And He did it out
of His own great love and grace. Who was it who did this? It was the
Lord Jesus Christ, the King of Glory, the God who made the world, and
all those countless stars that fill our sky. If it was a good man that
had done it, we should have thought it a great thing to do; but that God
should stoop so low fills us with surprise. He might have stayed in
heaven, rejoicing in His Father's love, listening to the songs and
adoration of the angels, leaving us in our poverty and ruin to die
eternally. But no; out of His boundless love and grace, He came to
suffer and die--'for your sakes.'
"Yes, for our sakes, because we were poor, lost sinners, and He pitied
us. So He came down from heaven, and lived a poor man, dying a death of
shame to redeem us and save us from hell. Should we not then seek His
rich salvation, and take the wealth the Saviour went through such deep
poverty to win for us? You may refuse it; God does not force it upon
you. But oh, the terrible punishment that will fall on those who neglect
or reject God's salvation!
"You, here before me, are mostly poor; you would all like to be rich.
Listen, then, to God's Word: 'The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich,
and He addeth no sorrow with it.' The heavenly riches never disappoint,
never fly away, but last on, growing deeper and fuller, right into
eternity. Who will come to Christ to-night, and seek His unsearchable
riches?"
They were simple words simply spoken, but were God's message to many
hearts. Owen did not say much as he walked home with his friend; but he
did not forget the words he had heard. That night he opened his Bible
for the first time since he came to Barmston, and knelt in prayer before
he went to bed. All that week he was very thoughtful, longing for Sunday
to come, that he might again have some help heavenward, for he was
beginning to set his face that way. Not that he neglected his work. No;
his uncle never found him more diligent and active, though he was on his
feet from morning till night, and was often thoroughly tired out.
"No sorrow with it," he said softly to himself one evening, as he was
copying some writing by his cousin's side in the counting-house.
"What do you say, Owen?"
The boy smiled. "I did not know I was speaking out loud," he said.
"But what did you say about 'no sorrow'?"
"It was something I heard on Sunday: 'The blessing of the Lord it maketh
rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.'"
"Those riches must be worth getting," said Clarice, after a pause, with
tears in her eyes. She had long known a deeply unsatisfied feeling in
her heart, though no one suspected it; and she herself hardly knew how
the uneasiness arose.
"Yes, I think so too," said Owen, as he went on busily with his work.
It was only a few days after this that Mr. Hadleigh called his nephew to
him, and said, "Clarice has to go on business for me over to Horley,
across the river, and she wants you to go too; so run and change your
jacket, and get ready to go with her."
"Thank you, uncle," said the boy, delighted at the prospect of a change.
He had never been on the river before, and it was a great charm to him
to step on board the little steamer waiting at the pier-head, and start
off in the fresh breeze across the river.
"How long will it take us?" he asked his cousin.
"About twenty minutes crossing; then we have to go into the village for
father, and take the next boat back."
"How curious it feels; it looks as if the town and pier were moving
away."
"Yes, it often does at first; but it is really we who are moving. You
will see better when we get farther out into the river."
The shipping and the new sights occupied the boy the whole way across,
and Clarice had to answer numberless questions, so that it was not till
they had reached the other side, and were walking down a country road to
the neighbouring village, that she was able to say, "Do you know why I
asked father to let you come to-day?"
"Because you are kind, and wanted me to have a holiday."
"It was not altogether that," said the girl, looking down on the young
boy at her side; "I wanted you to tell me more about that 'no sorrow.'"
"Why, I told you all I knew."
"Ah, but how can we get it?"
The boy hesitated. "You must come with me to the mission-hall on Sunday
night, and hear the preacher yourself, Clarice. Then you will know all
about it."
"I cannot do that; mother would not let me, nor father either, I fear."
"But they let me."
"Yes; but they had a talk about it the first Sunday evening you were
gone. Mother said she did not like you to go at all, but father said as
long as you did your work well he did not mind where you went on
Sundays, as you are a boy. So you really must tell me more, Owen. No one
but you can help me."
"I don't know what to tell you. I don't quite understand it myself yet.
He said we were to read the Bible and pray, and seek the salvation God
offers. He said the Lord Jesus loves us, and wants us to be His
children."
"Are you His child?"
"I don't know. I want to be. Father and mother were, and----" the boy
stopped.
"I must know more about it," said Clarice, earnestly; "you must listen
for yourself and me too, Owen, when you go again, and try to remember
all you can to tell me."
When they returned to Barmston, they found Mr. Hadleigh evidently in a
bad temper. He was talking very loudly, and seemed considerably annoyed.
The moment he caught sight of Owen, he called him to him.
"Didn't you put out that order for Mr. Davenport yesterday? I gave it
into your hands."
"Yes, sir, I did it. I weighed out the things, and wrapped them up."
"This comes of trusting to boys," he said, bitterly; "but you seemed
different to most. Mr. Davenport has just been in, and says the things
never arrived."
"I packed them up all right," said Owen, respectfully, but firmly.
"Whose place was it to take them out?"
"It was David's round."
"Then the matter lies between you and David. Which of you stole the
goods?"
"Oh, father!" exclaimed Clarice, "neither of them would do such a
thing."
"Well, the goods must be somewhere," he replied, half-ashamed of his hot
words. "Norris has often given me hints about the two, David and Owen;
he says they are too much together for good."
"I expect Norris is at the bottom of it," said Clarice, eager to defend
her young cousin.
"Nonsense. Norris has been with us for years. I would trust him as well
as anybody. Owen, you can go to your own room for the present, till I
decide what is to be done. Send David to me as soon as he returns."
Poor Owen, it was a sad ending to a pleasant little holiday. Things
looked black, but he knew he had done as he was told, and that the goods
had been carefully wrapped up, and laid on the counter ready to be taken
away. Yet how could he prove it? Norris had seen him weighing the things
out, but he had turned against him, and there was no other witness. He
sat down by the side of his bed, and wondered what he should do if his
uncle sent him to prison. Could he not run away? There were lots of
ships about; perhaps he could get work on one of them. But better
thoughts prevailed, and at last he sank on his knees, and prayed that
some way might be found for him out of his trouble.
Meanwhile David had been questioned, and said that he had never been
given anything for Mr. Davenport. He showed his book, stating what
houses he had called at, and answered so straightforwardly that Mr.
Hadleigh at once acquitted him of all complicity in wrong-doing.
"It is just that nephew of yours, Mr. Hadleigh," said his wife; "a
little sneaking fellow, trying to toady himself into your favour by
industry, and then returning it in this fashion."
"Owen never did it," said Clarice, decidedly.
"Ah, you always favoured him. You and your father should have believed
me, and this would never have occurred," said her mother, sweeping out
of the room.
Clarice possessed great influence with her father, so when they were
alone, he asked, "Don't you really think it is Owen?"
"No, father, I don't. I am certain he would not do such a thing. His
father brought him up too well for that. Things have been missing before
he came. If I were you, I should look after somebody else."
Nothing more was said. Business went on as usual till ten o'clock; then
the shop was closed, and the family went upstairs to the sitting-room.
No one had been near Owen, or had even thought of taking him food, till
Clarice suddenly remembered he had had nothing since breakfast; so
filling a plate with some bread and butter, and a slice of cold meat,
she hastily left the room, unquestioned by her parents.
Owen had fallen asleep, with his head resting against the washstand, and
Clarice noticed that there were traces of tears on his face. She touched
his arm, and he jumped up in a moment.
"I have brought you something to eat," she said, kindly; "I am so sorry
I forgot to do so before; I am afraid you are nearly starved."
"No, it didn't matter; but I am glad to have it now. What is going to be
done?" he asked, watching his cousin's face anxiously.
"Nothing can be done to-night. Father wants to find out the truth, of
course. I think if we asked God to let it be seen who took the things,
He would make it plain."
"I am sure he would if we were His children. But you see we are not."
The words were said sorrowfully and slowly.
Clarice did not reply for a moment, as she watched her cousin eating his
supper. "We must see what to-morrow brings," she said, at last; "go to
bed now."
Mr. Hadleigh could find no direct evidence against Owen. The goods had
vanished, certainly, but it was not at all clear who had taken them. He
did not care to prosecute his own nephew, and he would not turn him
adrift for his dead brother's sake. So things went on much as usual,
though the boy knew he was only tolerated, and was carefully watched,
whatever he did.
When Sunday came, Owen gladly went off to his kind friends. Mr.
Netherclift had heard all about the accusation from David, and felt much
for the orphan lad. Again he put the Gospel earnestly and faithfully
before him; but he was a wise man; he would not hurry any soul, though
he knew there must be a moment of decision, and he entreated the boy not
to put it off. As to the present trial, he urged Owen to do his
every-day work faithfully and well, as under the eye of God, and he felt
sure that his uncle would in time be assured that he was not the
culprit.
"It seems strange this should happen just now, when I want to do right.
It is only this week that I have begun to read my Bible again. When I
didn't read it nothing disagreeable happened."
"Ah, my boy, if you were older and more experienced, you would know why.
When you were content to live just for this world alone, without a
thought of God and eternal things, Satan left you alone. But the moment
you begin to seek God, Satan does all he can to hinder and keep you
back. No doubt he has stirred up some of his servants to work you this
evil; but be sure of this, God will right you in good time."
A quiet, happy evening was spent, Owen feeling very grateful for
sympathy, and being much cheered to see that the Netherclifts never for
one moment doubted his honesty. But he went home early, saying he wished
to be alone, and would not go to the mission-hall that night.