"I—don't know," I whispered.
"Because there is no such comfort in anything else," she said. "When one is troubled or puzzled, there's nothing like going straight to God, and telling Him all about it. Not only telling, but putting the whole thing into His hands, and asking Him to arrange everything. Do you remember how the disciples went and 'told Jesus' directly they heard of St. John the Baptist's death?"
"Yes," I said faintly.
"And we can do the same about everything—we ought to do the same," she went on. "He is always near—always kind and ready to help. He always answers if we really call upon Him."
I only said "Yes." The words didn't come home to me particularly then, though perhaps they did later.
"I think you are troubled now about something, and puzzled too," said she.
"Oh, I don't know," I said.
"You see, I know so well what that is," she said: "I have been so often puzzled and troubled. It couldn't be otherwise, having to stand alone early, as I have had to do. Sometimes it has been about money matters; sometimes about somebody else's wrong-doing; sometimes about my own wrongdoing; or, perhaps, just not knowing what to do, not being sure which step was right or wrong. And you know, Kitty, one may always come to God, with every wrong, and ask Him to set it right or to help one through. Always! always!" she repeated very earnestly. "If we can't see our way, He will show it to us. And if we don't know what we ought to do, He will make it clear. We only have to be willing, and to wait for the showing."
But did I want to have it made clear? That was the question. I wanted to have my own way. I wanted to keep Mr. Russell's secret. I wanted to feel myself bound by the promise I had spoken. I did not want to be shown God's will, unless it were my own will too. So how could I honestly pray for God to guide me to what was right, if I wasn't willing to do what was right when I saw it?
Mary said no more, and let me go, which was wiser than if she had kept on talking at me. People commonly don't know when to stop, and they'll spoil the best advice by nagging on too long at it; but that wasn't Mary's way. She had said what was needful, and she said no more. And her words didn't fall to the ground, though at the moment they didn't seem to weigh with me.