“This, then, is one of the uses of trial, I suppose, to make us know how wicked we are. An hour ago I felt so good and so happy, I thought the way to heaven so easy and delightful; and in the very first difficulty that I met, all my goodness melted away in a moment.”
“But now that you are recalled to yourself—now that you remember that as strangers and pilgrims upon earth, we must not cling too closely to anything in a world through which we are but passing—I trust that, by God’s help, you will show how cheerfully a Christian can submit to the will of his Master. You will not go away, like the rich young man, sorrowing, but, following the Saviour through all life’s changing scenes, rejoice in the treasure laid up for you in heaven.”
“One thing I should like,” said Charles, his face brightening again, “may I be the first to tell the news to Mark? If he is half as much delighted as I was vexed—I should so like to see how he takes it!”
“Most readily do I accede to your wish,” said Mr. Ewart, “but we must say nothing to excite him just now, while he is so feverish; and it is better that he should know nothing of the change until all is more decided and settled. I am just going to write to your uncle.”
“My uncle!” said Charles, looking again rather grave; “ah, how astonished he will be, and Aunt Matilda, and Clementina! I wonder if it will make them feel differently towards me—if I shall lose many friends with my title.”
“There is one at least whom you will gain.”
“Ah, a brother! I daresay that Mark and I will love each other, only I can never fancy him a lord.” Charles almost laughed at the idea.
“You must be to him what Jonathan was to David. One might have feared that the son of King Saul, who must naturally have once hoped to succeed to the throne of his father, would have beheld with jealousy the shepherd boy who was chosen to rule in his stead. Yet between the two there was only confidence and love, love which, however much we may admire it in David, appears tenfold more beautiful in his friend.”
“We must be like Christian and Faithful in the Pilgrim’s Progress,” said Charles, now quite regaining his usual cheerfulness of manner. “He has been passing through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and struggling under all manner of trials, and now the way is growing smooth beneath his feet, and he will have a brother to walk beside him. He will teach me something of the Valley of Humility, and I will tell him what I know of Vanity Fair. I feel really ashamed of myself now—what a worldly, self-seeking pilgrim I have been!”