Left to Ourselves Part 9

It was only momentary, for how could she? Then her eyes fell on the new text, and her heart, with a throb of joy, realized that the Lord was with her.

"Always," she said to herself; "so that must mean to-day. 'Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?'"

She bent her head over the little golden one, and clasped her arms tighter round the trembling little form, and then she said softly:

"Minnie, have you read our text since father and mother went?"

Minnie listened, but only for an instant, then she sobbed louder than ever.

"Minnie," again pursued Agnes, "do you think you are carrying out what _He_ would have you do?"

Minnie stopped a little, and clung more lovingly than before to her sister's waist.

"We must be sorry they are gone; we can't help it, and I don't think Jesus wants us to help it; but we ought not to give way to such grief as to seem rebellious to what He has ordered."

"Do you think I am?" asked the child brokenly.

"What do you think yourself?"

"I don't know," hesitating.

"Well, think about it for a moment. Look here. Minnie, I want to put up these things that are scattered about, so I will lay you on the sofa and cover you up warm; then you can think about it while you watch me. Come, Alice dear, you and I shall soon make things look brighter if we try."

Alice had been standing gazing rather forlornly at Minnie, but now turned round with alacrity. To do something would divert her sorrowful thoughts.

By-and-by a heavy sigh from Minnie made her sisters look at her. There she lay like a picture, her long curls tossed about over the sofa cus.h.i.+on like a halo, her dark eyelashes resting on her flushed cheeks, where the tears were hardly dry, asleep.

"What a good thing," said Alice in a low tone. "I thought she would cry herself ill."

"Yes, I am glad," answered Agnes, looking down upon her. "But, Alice, the boys will be back before we have done if we stand talking."

"Then we won't. Agnes, did not aunt Phyllis say she would come in early?"

"Yes; but I hope she will not till we have put away everything. Just take up that heap and come upstairs with me, Alice; and then run down for that one, will you? You don't mind?"

"I'm not going to 'mind' anything, as Hugh says," answered Alice earnestly, a tear just sparkling in the corner of her eye.

"That's a dear girl; it will make everything so much easier if you do that."

"I mean to try."

They left the room, closing the door after them, and went up with their loads--papers, string, packing-canvas, cardboard boxes, rubbish, shawls, and what not.

Agnes placed the various things in their places, while Alice watched and handed them to her, and at last all was done and the girls ran down, just as a double rap sounded through the hall.

"That's auntie's knock, I shall open it," exclaimed Alice, and in a moment she admitted a little lady, whose pale delicate face and stooping att.i.tude betokened constant ill health.

"Well, my dears," she said cheerfully, "I knew you would have a few things to do after such an early starting, so I waited for a little time. Are the boys back yet?"

"No; we expect them every moment," answered Agnes, leading her aunt into the now orderly dining-room, and placing her in an arm-chair.

Miss Headley's eyes wandered round in search of little Minnie, and soon she saw the sleeping child.

"Not ill?" she asked, rea.s.suring herself with her eyes before Agnes answered:

"She was tired with excitement, I think, and grief. I am so glad she is asleep."

"The best thing for her. And they got off well?"

"Oh, yes; but I hardly knew how utterly dreadful it would be to feel I could not call them back!"

Agnes turned away; she could not say any more. While the responsibility rested on her alone she had been brave, but now with her aunt's sympathy so near she began to feel as if she must break down.

"I know," said the soft voice, "do not mind me, my child; come here and let me comfort you."

Agnes knelt down and laid her head on her aunt's shoulder, while one or two convulsive sobs relieved her burdened heart.

"There will often be moments when you would give anything to have them here, my child; but the Lord knows just that, and has sent forth strength for thee to meet it all. We never know how very dear and precious He can be till we've got no one else."

"I shall learn it soon," whispered Agnes.

"Yes, my child; and it is such a mercy to know that He suits our discipline to our exact need. The other day I was on a visit in the country, and had to go to an instrument-maker there to do something for my back. He told me he could not help me at all, for my case was so very peculiar, and he had nothing to suit me. But that's not like the Lord, my child. He knows us too intimately for that. He does not think our case too peculiar for His skill, but holds in His tender hand just the support, just the strengthening, just the treatment we want, and He gives us what will be the very best for us."

Agnes and Alice knew to what their aunt referred. An accident when she was a beautiful young woman of twenty had caused her life-long suffering, and obliged her to wear a heavy instrument which often gave her great pain and weariness.

Her niece raised her hand at those gentle words, and stroked her aunt's face lovingly.

"It is resting to know He understands perfectly, my child, isn't it?"

"Very. But oh, auntie, I wish you hadn't to suffer so!"

"Don't wish that, my dear, but rejoice that, in every trial that has ever come to me, I can say, 'His grace has been sufficient for me.'"

Agnes knelt on in silence; and aunt Phyllis did not attempt to disturb the quiet till some hasty footsteps were heard along the pavement, which came springing up the steps, and in another moment the two boys, fresh from their walk, came bursting into the room; but not before Agnes had sprung up and seated herself at the table with her work.

"Hulloa, Agnes! Why, auntie, is that you? So you've come to look after the forsaken nest, have you?"

"How did they get off, John?" Agnes asked, looking up as quietly as if she had been sitting there for an hour.

"Very well; mother was cheerful to the last."

"And they had a foot-warmer?"

"Your humble servant saw to that."

"And you got them something to read?"

"Wouldn't have anything."