Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 35

"The book was Miss Gertrude's choice," said Christie, scarcely knowing what to say.

"Oh, then it is Miss Gertrude whose faith is wavering?"

Christie shook her head.

"One day Miss Gertrude asked me something about which I was quite sure, but I couldn't tell her why I was so sure; and she found this book, and we thought we would read it."

"To make you more sure?" said Mr Sherwood, smiling.

"No, sir, not that. Nothing could make me more sure than I am that the Bible and all it teaches is true. But it is well to be able to tell why I am sure."

"And so you are sure of these things without knowing why you are sure?"

Christie sent a grave, questioning look into his face, and said:

"I think the true knowledge of these things is not learned in books, unless it is in the Bible--and not in that, unless G.o.d teaches one."

After a pause, she added:

"It must be true, you know. What can one trust to, if not to the Word of G.o.d? What else is there that does not fail us in the time of need, in some way or other?"

"Not much, indeed," said Mr Sherwood, gravely.

"Nothing," repeated Christie, "except the word and promise of G.o.d. They never fail--never change--never!"

"Do they never change? What were you telling that boy just now about the blind man that was healed for the asking? But you could not tell Claude that the same power could make him strong and well again, though I am sure you wish it were so."

"But I am quite sure He could; and He would, if it were best."

"But why is it not best for him as well as it was for the blind man? He wishes it, and all who love him wish it. And our poor little Claude is not the only one. Think how much suffering there is in the world that might be relieved."

Christie looked puzzled and anxious for a moment.

"But it is not that He has changed, or that He breaks His promise. I cannot say just what I would, but I don't think it is quite the same.

You know when Christ came into the world it was not merely to do that kind of good to men; it was to save them. And it was necessary that He should prove to them that He was the Son of G.o.d, by doing what none but G.o.d could do. So He opened blind eyes, and healed their diseases, and raised the dead. And besides, they were to know another way: 'Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows!' They might have known He was the Messiah by that too." She stopped suddenly, and then added: "It is different now."

"And so, having done enough to prove all that, He forgets the troubles people in the world have now. Does He?"

"It is not that He forgets, or breaks His promise," said Christie, hesitatingly, yet earnestly. "He has not promised that His people should never have trouble in the world; quite the contrary. But He promises always to be with them, to support and comfort them through all. And that is as good as though they were to have none--and, indeed, far better."

She spoke very earnestly. Her face was flushed, and the tears filled her eyes, but she spoke very modestly and humbly too.

"Well, it does not seem that _you_ are troubled with doubts, anyway,"

said Mr Sherwood, rising, and placing Claude on the seat she had prepared for him.

"No; I do not doubt. It must be a great unhappiness to think at all about these things and not be sure and quite at rest about them."

"And what would you say to any one who suffered this great unhappiness?"

The question was gravely, even sadly, asked. There was not the echo of mockery in his tone that had made Christie shrink during the first moments of his being there. She looked up wistfully into the face that was still bending over the child.

"I don't know," she said. "I cannot tell--except to bid him ask, as the blind man asked, 'Lord, that mine eyes might be opened!'"

He went slowly down the cedar walk, and Christie watched him with wistful eyes. Whether he asked the gift of sight or not, there was one who, after that day, did ask it for him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE SECRET OF PEACE.

Gertrude could not find her book. All that Christie could tell her about it was that she had seen it in Mr Sherwood's hand in the cedar walk, and that he did not leave it when he went away. She looked for it in the library and in the drawing-room, but it was nowhere to be seen.

She had a great objection to asking him for it. Mr Sherwood sometimes condescended to jest with the young lady on some subjects about which they did not agree; and she did not like his jests. So time pa.s.sed on, till the third day.

"I'll ask him for it at dinner," she said to herself. "He is never so provoking when father is there."

But a good opportunity occurred before dinner. Mr Sherwood was standing in the hall, waiting for Mrs Seaton, whom he was to take into town, when Miss Gertrude pa.s.sed him on her way up-stairs.

"Mr Sherwood," she said, "you picked up a book in the garden the other day. It was very careless in me to leave it there. Will you give it to me now?"

"I ought to apologise to you for having kept it so long," he answered, gravely. "I will get it for you this moment."

Miss Gertrude looked up to see whether there was not a smile upon his face. She had no idea that her new "whim" for serious reading was to be allowed to pa.s.s without remark. But his look was quite grave as he turned into the library.

"Do you like this?" he asked, when he came out with the book in his hand.

"I don't know. I have not read much of it," she answered, quickly, moving towards him to take the book. He gave it to her without speaking.

A glance at his face induced her to say, "Are you not well to-day, Cousin Charles?"

It was one of Miss Gertrude's "whims" always to address him formally as "Mr Sherwood"; and in his agreeable surprise at her familiarity, he smiled brightly. But his face grew grave again as he said:

"Yes; I am quite well--only, perhaps, a little more indolent and self-indulgent than usual."

About this time there came a letter from Effie, in which there was one sentence that cost Christie many a wondering and anxious thought.

"My dear little sister, let your light s.h.i.+ne, and who knows but you may be the means of blessing to this household also?"

"Effie doesn't know," said Christie to herself. "She thinks I have grown good and wise, but she is much mistaken. I am sure if I did any good to Mrs Lee I don't know how it happened. And besides, she was ill and in trouble, and had need of the little help and comfort I could give her. But Miss Gertrude! She is the only one I come very near to here; and she is so quick and beautiful and strong--so much above me in every way. Oh, if Effie were to see her, she would never think of my being able to influence her. Everybody admires Miss Gertrude; and I am but a nursemaid, and hardly that."

And yet the humble little maid did influence Gertrude as the days and months pa.s.sed on; but Mrs Seaton and her gay friends in the drawing-room were not more unconscious of the influence for good she was exerting over the wayward young lady than was the little maid herself.

Gertrude only vaguely realised that she was beginning to see and estimate things differently from what she used to do--half thinking, as her mother did, that it was because she was growing older and more sensible. She found herself thinking, now and then, that her standard of right was not exactly what it used to be before she had compared opinions with Christie. In her intercourse with her own family and with others also, she often found herself measuring their opinions and actions by Christie's rule. But she by no means realised that her own opinions and actions were gradually adjusting themselves to the same rule. Yet so it was.

She liked to watch Christie. She was never weary of admiring the patience with which she bore the changing moods of her little charge, when illness made him fretful or exacting. Gertrude saw that she was learning to love the little boy dearly; but she also saw that it was not merely her love for him that made her so faithful in doing her duty to him, nor was it to please the mother and sister or win their confidence, for she was equally faithful in matters that could never come to Mrs Seaton's knowledge, and Gertrude knew by experience that _her_ pleasure was never suffered to interfere where Claude's interest or comfort was concerned.

No; Christie lived that useful, patient life from higher motives than these. "She does what is right because it is right," said Gertrude to herself. She saw her quite cheerful and contented from day to day, doing the same things over and over again, with few pleasures--with none, indeed, unless the hour or two of reading which they managed almost daily to get could be called such.