I wondered if this would last, and I found it did. Mrs. Crane might not have a graceful way of expressing gratitude, but, at all events, her gratitude lasted. My rubs and difficulties in that way were over, and very glad I was that I had managed to live through them, without giving any real cause for offence, or showing bad tempers in return.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
LOOKING BACK.
MRS. MURCHISON'S STORY.
My boy, Miles, seems to have come to a stop in his writing, and he says I'm to add something here. If I do, the first thing I'm likely to put down is, how thankful I am to have such children as mine! I don't think I am what is called "fond and foolish" about my children. That is to say, I don't think mine is a blind love, able only to see good in them, and able to see nothing that is wrong. The best and highest kind of love isn't a blind love—at least, I should think not.
Miles has his faults, like other boys; and one fault shows pretty clearly in this bit of our story which he has written. I mean, he has the fault of thinking too much about himself. There is a lot about "I—I," and "what I have done, and what I think," and "what people think of me," and that's a pity always. The more we think about ourselves, the less leisure we have to think about other people.
I wonder whether anybody reading my part of the story—I mean the part I wrote myself —would perhaps say the same of me! I never thought of that before; but things look so different from outside and inside, and it may be so.
Well, anyhow, as I say, I'm not blind to my children's faults, and I'm not blind to this fault of Miles'. But, all the same, I am thankful to have my boy what he is. For I know that he is honest and straightforward and true: that he is hardworking, and diligent, and ready to do a kindness to anybody. And I know that Mr. Laurence thinks a lot of my boy. He told Mrs. Kingscote the other day, that he "would trust Miles with anything." That was nice for a mother to hear, wasn't it?
As for my other children, Louey and Rosie, they are both as good and affectionate as I could wish. Louey is more and more of a help to me in the house, and Rosie bids fair to follow in her steps.
And my other little one—my sweet Bessie—it is all well with her, I know, though a veil has come between, and I cannot see or touch her more. Yet often I feel that she is even nearer to me than my dear ones who seem so near; for the veil between is very thin, and she and I are both in Christ's keeping. And oh, how safe she is? For the three elder ones I am often anxious, picturing their future in this life, and possible dangers and temptations. But for Bessie, all anxiety is over! she is beyond danger and beyond temptation. If I could have her back again, would I? Ah, that would be a hard question to answer, if put to me! Hard to say "No," and yet how grieved she would be to have to come! It would be like going from the Queen's palace to live in some dark cellar. Oh no! I love her too well to wish it really, even while nothing can ever fill that blank in my life.