AUNT RUTH.
"NOW, Nellie, my dear," said Aunt Ruth, as they were seated together at
work in the drawing room the next morning, "tell me all about them at
home."
Nellie looked up in her aunt's face—a face still young for the actual
age; a face that had lived through seas of suffering, but which was the
index of a heart that rested now, and ever had rested, on the Rock of
Ages.
"How can I begin to tell you, dear aunt?"
"Anything will be welcome, darling; but first your dear papa."
"I think he is just as usual," answered Nellie. "He always is just the
same."
Aunt Ruth smiled. "Happy for you he is, dear."
Nellie looked thoughtfully out of the window into the sunny garden,
and then she added, "We think him rather more grey, Aunt Ruth, since
uncle's illness and death. I fear he will never wholly get over that."
"No, dear, I am afraid not," answered Miss Arundel, a look of pain
crossing her face, but this was quickly followed by a look of peace as
she glanced towards the blue sky.
"Then your dear mamma?"
"We do not think her very well; but papa has not said anything about
being anxious."
"I have thought from her letters that she was not very strong."
Nellie's heart sank a little, and a nameless fear crept over her.
Aunt Ruth looked in her face, and seemed to understand. She put out her
hand and took hold of Nellie's, saying reassuringly:
"'All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth.'"
Nellie's eyes filled. How wonderful it was that, all the world over,
the words of the blessed Book comforted those who sought its aid:
"Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever."
"And you have good news from Walter?"
"Oh, yes!" said Nellie, brightening. "He is very well, and working
hard, and longing to come home."
"It will be a great change for you all, if he settles in England."
"I think he will, Aunt Ruth. Christina does not like India very much;
and then, again, Walter wants to be near papa. It seems hard that papa
should lose his eldest son altogether."
"And Christina is happy to wait so long?"
"Oh, yes! In fact, she much prefers it. She says she could not have
thought of it sooner, partly because of the little children."
"What will be done with them, Nellie, when she is married? Has anything
been arranged? You know, dear, letters do not tell me all I want to
know."
"I do not think it is quite decided. She has only four little children,
and I believe she intends, if Walter agrees, to maintain them and
educate them just the same. She says if any very nice home were offered
for one of them, she might accept; but she loves them so much that I do
not know how she could part with them."
"She is a sweet girl, is she not?"
"Very sweet; and so beautiful! She is most accomplished; and to watch
her playing with the little children, and condescending to their pranks
and fun, is quite amusing to me."
"I wish I could see her," said Aunt Ruth.
"She is one of the reliable people," said Nellie, "without being an
atom stuck-up or stiff. The tenderest heart, but yet so firm and pure."
Aunt Ruth looked up in Nellie's glowing face. "You are a good little
lover, Nellie," she said, smiling.
"It is quite true," answered Nellie, somewhat abashed, "and not at all
because Walter thinks so. I felt it long before I knew anything about
that."
"And now, Nellie, I must tell you about the Elliots. They are very nice
people, and Hope is the greatest comfort to us. I can hardly fancy
ourselves living without her now. I am sure you and she will be happy
together. But, you know, Nellie, they all need the one thing. It is
so sad to see a large family without that. Hope tells me her eldest
brother thinks as we do; but she does not profess to care about it
herself.
"Poor Mrs. Elliot has been weighed down with cares for many years, and
knows not that, perhaps, they have been permitted, as George Herbert
says, 'that at least if goodness lead her not, yet weariness may toss
her to His breast.' I pray it may be so. Their being at Shellford will
add very much to your pleasure, I think, dear, as they are a pleasant,
bright family, and perhaps, Nellie, you will have some little mission
for them."
Aunt Ruth drew the young face to her, and kissed it fondly.
"My dear child," she said, "our Heavenly Father leads us all in
different paths; but they are all His paths—all lead straight to His
heavenly home, and we must try and be willing to walk in our own
faithfully and joyfully. Some paths are full of suffering, others are
full of work; but still each, let us remember as we walk along in it
day by day, is His path, made ready for our feet."
"Yes, dear aunt," said Nellie, looking up in the worn face, and knowing
that these words came from a heart which had proved what it said.
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