THE FATHER'S HOUSE.
At length Daisy knew that her home was near; for, above all the howling of the storm, she heard her sister's sobs and frightened cries.
Very tired she was, and cold, and drenched with rain, and sad, besides, for she could not enter the door without thinking of the burden she had borne away from it last.
But, instead of rest and comforting words, Maud ran to meet her with whining and bitter reproaches, and called her cruel to stay so long, and foolish to have gone at all, hard-hearted to neglect her mother's child, and would not listen to reason nor excuse, but poured forth the wickedness of her heart in harsh and untrue words, or else indulged her selfish grief in passionate tears and cries.
Alas! the wolves and snakes that Susan kept away from the cabin had entered it now, and our poor Daisy too often felt their fangs at her sad heart.
She gave her sister no answering reproaches back, and did not, as she well might, say that it was Maud's own fault she had been left alone; for she had refused, when Daisy asked her help in making their mother's grave.
When we see people foolish and unreasonable, like Maud, we must consider that it is a kind of insanity; they don't know what they are saying. Now, when crazy people have their wild freaks, the only way to quiet them is by gentleness; and we must treat angry people just the same, until their freaks pass.
You would not tease a poor crazy man, I hope; and why, then, tease your brother or sister when their senses leave them for a little while?
As soon as Maud would listen, Daisy began to tell about the beautiful city she saw through her spectacles, and how the dreadful old dame had changed to a graceful fairy, and floated up above the trees.
But her sister interrupted her, to ask why she had never told before of the wonderful gift in her spectacles, and called her mean for keeping them all to herself.
She knew very well that the reason was, Daisy had never found any one to believe in what she saw, and that even her mother laughed at her for wearing such old things.
Maud snatched them eagerly now from Daisy's hand, but said, at first, she could only see the lightning and the rain, and then suddenly dashed them on the ground, with a frightened cry.
For she had seemed, all at once, to stand out in a lonely wood, by night, and to look through the ground, at her feet, and see as plainly as by daylight the dead form of her mother, with the rain drops, that pelted every where, dripping upon the flowers which Daisy had put in her folded hands.
Maud would not tell this to her sister, but said peevishly, "Your old glasses are good for nothing, as I always thought; and you only want me to wear them so as to spoil my beauty, and make me as homely as you. Tell me again about the place you saw our mother in, though I don't believe a word of what you say."
Daisy knew better, and answered, "It was a more beautiful city than any we ever thought about in the world. This earth seemed like its cellar, it was so dull and cold here after I had seen that glorious light; the trees looked in it as if they were made of gold."
"O, you are always talking about light and trees; tell me about the people and the houses."
"The houses were so bright, I cannot tell you exactly how they looked; the foundations of them were clear, dazzling stones, of every color; even the streets were paved with glass; and the walls were gold, and the gates great solid pearls!"
"What nonsense, Daisy! Didn't the shop-keeper tell us, at the fair, that one little speck of a pearl cost more than my new gown? Now, what of the people?"
"You didn't look at the houses, after once seeing them; they had such lovely faces, and such a kind, gentle look, I could cry at only thinking of them now."
"Don't cry till you've finished your story. Were any of them handsomer than the rest? And what kind of dresses did they wear?"
"Their clothes were made of light, I should think; for they were softer than spider webs, and kept changing their shape and color as the people moved about."
"How could they?"
"Why, all the light poured from one place, that I could not look into; and even the heavenly people, when they turned towards it, folded their wings before their faces."
"That is where I should build my house."
"O, no, my sister; that is where our heavenly Father has built his throne; and it is the light from him that makes the whole city splendid, without any sun or moon. You cannot tell what a little, dark speck I felt before God: I trembled, and did not know where to turn, when one of the people came and took my hand."
"How frightened I should have been! Did he have wings?"
"I can't remember; but he moved—all in the heavenly city move—more quickly and more easily than birds. They want to be in a place, and are there like a flash of light; and they can see and hear so far, that the beautiful man who spoke to me said he saw me kiss our mother's hands, and put flowers in them, and carry her into the wood."
"Did he say any thing about me?"
"Yes—that some time you would love him better than any one else. And he told me why the people's clothes kept changing: when they went nearer our Father, their faces, and every thing they wore, became more splendid and lovely, but as they moved away from him, grew darker and coarser; and yet, Maud, the commonest of all the people there is beautiful as our fairy, and wears as splendid clothes."
"What was the man's name? I hope he was not common, if I must love him."
"No, he was the greatest in heaven; all the men and angels bowed to him, and they called him Christ."
"O, I would give every thing to see him; you never shall go through the wood alone, Daisy, for fear he will come again when I'm away."
"He could come to our house as well as to the grave. And I'll tell you another strange thing about the city, Maud: some of the roads, you know, are glass, and some are gold; and there is a beautiful river, like crystal, shaded with palm trees, and sweeping on till it is lost in the great light."
"I don't see any thing wonderful in that, if the rest of your story be true."
"I have not finished: these broad roads ended in narrow paths; and from the river trickled tiny streams, that somehow came down over the golden walls of the city, and over the clouds, and the tops of trees, into this very earth we are standing on."
"O Daisy! are you sure? Could I find one of the paths, and so climb up to heaven, and find the beautiful Christ I am to love?"
"Yes, he told me so himself, and pointed to all the people on earth that were in those paths; and I saw a brightness about them, and a calm look in their faces, such as God's angels have. And then Christ told how all who tasted of the streams grew strong; beautiful, and glad; sick people, that stepped into them, were healed; and those who washed in the water were never unclean again."
And Daisy did not tell, because she feared it might make her sister envious and sad, that the Beautiful One had kissed her forehead, and said, "Daisy, you have picked many a flower beside these streams, and they have soothed your father's weariness, and healed your mother's aching heart; and when you come to live with me, and I place them all on your head in a wreath that shall never fade, no angel in heaven will wear a more beautiful crown."
Daisy looked up at him then, and asked, "But will you take them away from my mother? And shall not Maud have some? Only let me live near you, and give her the crown."
Christ smiled, and then looked sad, and said, "It will be long before your sister is willing to walk in such straight, narrow paths, and dwell beside such still waters, as she must in order to find these flowers; but you will always be pointing them out to her; and, in the end, she will love me better than she loves any one else. I would gladly help her, Daisy, for your sake; but only they who love can dwell with me."