In Wild Rose Time Part 36

"My dear little Dil, we none of us quite understand. It is a great mystery. The Lord Jesus came down from heaven and was born a little child that children might not be afraid of him, but learn to love him.

When he grew to manhood he helped the needy, the suffering, and healed their illnesses. He went about doing good to everybody, and there were people who did not believe in him and treated him cruelly." How could he explain the great sacrifice to her comprehension? "Dil," he said in a low tone, "suppose you could have saved Bess great sorrow and suffering by dying for her, would you not have done it? Suppose that night the Lord Jesus had said to you, 'I can only take one of you to-night, which one shall it be?' What would you have done?"

"Oh, I'd let her gone. Was it that way?" The tears stood in her eyes, and her voice trembled with tenderest emotion.

"G.o.d loves us all as you loved Bess. But we do not all love him. We are not ready to do the things he tells us, to be truthful and honest and kindly. But he is ready to forgive us to the very last. And he knows what is best for us."

"Then that other body went to heaven," she said after a long silence.

"An' I know now she must have been in some lovely place, 'cause that Sunday she come to me in Cent'l Park she was all smilin' an' strange an'

sweet, an' beautiful like that picture you made. She looked jes' 's if she wanted to tell me somethin'. An' the Lord Jesus let her out of heaven 'cause I was so lost like 'n' uncertain."

The small face was illumined with joy. And to John Travis it was as the face of an angel.

He owed her so much. Again had G.o.d chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty. He thought of that other soul whose throes he had watched; whose guide-posts of science and philosophy had shed no light on the unknown hereafter; and how both of them had at last become little children in the faith. For when he promised to go to heaven with Bess and Dilsey Quinn, he meant to search out the way of truth if such a thing was possible. His had been a slower and more toilsome way, but Dil had seen and believed, and was among the blessed already. And he had come to a realization of the higher truths, not according to the lights of human knowledge, but faith in the Lord Jesus.

"I shall be so glad to see Bess. I'm most worn out an' wasted away longin' for her. But when I see her all straight an' strong an' lovely in heaven, I'll feel rested right away. I d'n' know how the Lord Jesus can care so much 'bout poor sick folks, when there's so many splendid people."

"Just as you cared for Bess."

"Oh, was that the way?" Her smile had the radiance of the everlasting knowledge. "But you see, I'd had Bess alwers an' loved her, 'n' he didn't know much about us, stowed away there in Barker's Court. So he's better 'n any folks. He had all that lovely heaven, an' he didn't need to come down. He must have loved people uncommon. It was like your stoppin' that day an' talkin' to us poor little mites. Why, 'twas jes'

if you'd made a new splendid world for us!"

She stopped a moment and drew some long breaths. Then an eager light flashed across her face.

"Oh!" she cried, "I've found the lady who gev the wild roses to Patsey that day. She's here, 'n' all the children are jes' crazy 'bout her. An'

she told me 'bout the picture you put me in. She said you'd be sure to come."

"She? Who?" John Travis was momentarily bewildered.

"Miss Deerin', Miss Virginia Deerin'. Ain't it a pretty name? An' she knows all 'bout that beautiful place of roses. I was hankerin' so for some, an' she went out to see 'f she could find any. I couldn't know you'd bring me such a lovely lot. Don't you know how Bess alwers b'l'eved you'd come, an' _she_ b'l'eves jes' that way. An' she likes you so."

"Virginia Deering!" John Travis said under his breath, his whole frame athrill with subtle emotion, "what makes you think she likes me?" he asked softly.

"Oh, can't you tell it in any one's voice? An' their eyes get soft an'

strange, 's if they were lookin' 'way off, an' saw the other one comin', jes' 's Bess come to me that day."

Then Dil raised a little and glanced out of the window, listened smilingly.

"She's come back. That's her voice. An' oh, won't she be glad to see you an' the heaps an' heaps of wild roses!"

XVI-ACROSS THE RIVER

Virginia Deering put by the children's clinging hands. Her mission had not been very successful. In one shady depth she had found a cl.u.s.ter of belated roses, their mates having blossomed and gone. But the children had enjoyed a rare pleasure.

She came up with a sort of reverent hesitation. She had been thinking of the journey "betwixt this and dawn," and trying with weak hands to push it farther and farther off, as we always do. Miss Mary had gone to the infirmary. The room was so still; then a soft, glad cry trembled on the air,-

"He's come, Miss Deerin'! An' oh, you won't mind, but he's been to that wild rose place, an' I think he's brought them _all_ to me. Look, look!"

and she stretched out her little hands.

Virginia paused, hesitated, her sweet face flus.h.i.+ng and paling, as John Travis turned. He was not sure he had made up his mind to any certain step; but, having found her here, he was certain he should never let her go again in this mortal life.

Did it make any difference here in this sacred hour who had sinned?

Could not even suffering love fold about another the garment of forgiveness? He took a step forward; she seemed to draw near by some inward volition, and stretched out her hands beseechingly. The sorrow and pain were ended. Was not love too sacred a thing to be bruised and wounded by trifles that should have been forgiven and forgotten as soon as uttered?

"Virginia," in a breathless sort of whisper. He stooped and kissed the quivering lips, and caught the tenderness of tear-blinded eyes.

"Little Dil, may _I_ have Miss Deering's roses?" and he took them in his hand.

"I only found a few," in a faltering voice.

"But he's brought me hundreds. I'm most buried in roses. An', Miss Virginia, I told him you'd be so glad. An' it's all as you said, only I couldn't feel quite sure till _he_ come. The Lord Jesus did take Bess to heaven that night; but he left me 'cause there was somethin' for me to do. It's all gettin' plain to me, only I ain't bright to see into things quick. But you can't both be mistook. An' now I'm all bright an' happy."

Did Virginia Deering say a year ago that she should always hate wild roses? She buried her face in them now, so that no one should see her tears. G.o.d had led this little human wild rose in the pathway of both.

It had grown in the world's wilderness, and learned how to bloom out of its own generous heart. To her it was the lesson of her whole life.

Dilsey Quinn smiled. She knew nothing about love and lovers; but the atmosphere was sweet and cordial, and she felt that.

Virginia began to arrange some of the roses in a bowl, with the nervous desire of occupation.

"Please put thim here on the sill," pleaded Dilsey. "That's the way Bess had thim. An' I told him how you gev thim to Patsey."

John Travis gave a soft, quaint smile, and took a small case from an inside pocket. There were some poor little withered buds between the leaves. All the color had gone out of them, all the fragrance.

"You gave them to me," he said. "Do you remember? Bess had them in her hand."

Dilsey's eyes filled with tears. Virginia leaned over and looked at them, strangely moved. Then he laid the few she had gathered beside them.

"I'm jes' happy all through," Dil said with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

Miss Mary came up with some broth.

"'Pears like I don't never want anythin' to eat again; but you're all so good. An' now I'm goin' to get well, though sometimes I want to see Bess so. An' I'd be sorry to go 'way from Patsey. Owen's gettin' to be such a nice boy. Patsey keeps him straight. I d'know who'd look after thim."

John Travis turned and gave her a rare, comforting smile. He owed her so much earthly and heavenly happiness; and he realized with a pang of anguish that she could never be repaid in this world. Had G.o.d noted the labor and love of this poor, unknown life, and written it in his Book,-the heroism so simply worked out, with no thought of self to mar any of it?

Miss Mary sent them down to supper.

"I am so thankful you had my letter in time," Virginia said softly. "We did not think then-"

She turned scarlet under his gaze.

"Your letter! Oh, _did_ you write? My darling, thank you! You shame me with your trust, your sweet readiness to forgive. But I have hardly been at home these two days. I think," and his voice fell to a reverent inflection, "that G.o.d was watching over it all, and guiding our steps.

It is a long story, and some day you shall hear it all, but in infinite pathos Dilsey Quinn's far exceeds it. Our whole lives will be more sacred to us for this remembrance. But I cannot bear to have her go. Is it as the nurse said?"

Virginia made a sign with her bowed head.