CHAPTER XIV.
“Elsie, it is worse than useless to talk to me. Once I could listen to you,—once I felt as you do now; but that time has gone by forever. I will read to you as often as you desire it, provided you do not make every chapter a text for a sermon. What do you wish to hear this morning?”
“The fortieth Psalm.”
Mrs. Gerome opened the Bible, and, when she had finished the psalm designated, shut the book and laid it back close to Elsie’s pillow.
The old woman placed her hand on the round, white arm of her mistress, who rested carelessly against the bed.
“You know, my child, that David’s afflictions were sore indeed; but he declares, ‘I waited patiently for the Lord, and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.’ You will not be patient, and God can’t help you till you are. We are like children punished for bad conduct,—as long as we rebel and struggle, of course we must be still further chastised; but the moment we show real penitence, our parents notice that we are bearing correction patiently, and then they throw away the rod and stretch out their arms, and snatch us close to their 175 loving hearts. Even so God holds one hand to draw us tenderly to Him; and, if we are obstinately sinful, with the other He scourges us into the right path,—determined to help us, even against our own wills. Ah, if I could see you waiting patiently for the Lord!”
“You will never see it. Patience was ‘scourged’ out of me, and now I stand still because I am worn out with struggling, waiting—not patiently, but wearily and helplessly—to see the end of my punishment. What have I done that I should feign a penitence I shall never feel? I was a happy, trusting, unoffending woman, when God smote me fiercely; and, because I was so innocent, I could not kiss my stinging rod, I grappled desperately with it. Elsie, don’t stir up the bitter dregs in my soul, and mix them with every thought. Let them settle.”
“My darling, I don’t want them to settle. I pray either that they may be stirred up and taken out, or sweetened by the grace of God. Do you ever think of the day when you will face your sainted mother?”
“No. I think only of enduring this present life until death, my deliverer, comes to my rescue.”