“Will you be kind enough to let me alone,” said Louis gently, but very decidedly.
This time the request was complied with, and Louis resumed his former seat, and fixing his eyes vacantly on the sweet prospect before him, ruminated with a full heart on the recent discovery; and, strange to say, though he had voluntarily promised to screen Ferrers a little longer from his justly merited disgrace, he felt as if it had been only a compulsory sense of duty and not benevolence which had led him to do so, and was inclined to murmur at his hard lot. For some time he sat in a kind of sullen apathy, without being able to send up a prayer, even though he felt he needed help to feel rightly. At length the kindly tears burst forth, and covering his face with his hands he wept softly. “I am very wrong—very ungrateful to God for His love to me. He has borne so much for me, and I am so unwilling to bear a little for poor Ferrers. Oh what sinful feelings I have! My heavenly Father, teach me to feel pity for him, for he has no one to help him; help him, teach him, Thyself.”
Such, and many more, were the deep heart-breathings of the dear boy, and who ever sought for guidance and grace, and was rejected? and how unspeakably comfortable is the assurance, that for each of us there is with Christ the very grace we need.
The sullen fit was gone, and Louis was his own happy self again, when little Alfred came to tell him that Mr. Witworth had given the order to return home,—“And I came to tell you, dear Louis, for I wanted to walk home with you. What a beast that Ferrers is! see if I won't tell Edward of him.”
“Hush, Alfred!” said Louis, putting his finger on the little boy's mouth. “Do you know that God is very angry when we call each other bad names, and surely you do not wish to revenge yourself? I will tell you a very sweet verse which our Saviour said: ‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father who is in heaven.’ ” As the little monitor spoke, the soft consciousness of the comfort of those sweet words rushed over his own mind, “children of your Father who is in heaven.”
“And am I a child—His child indeed! I will try to glorify my Saviour who has given me that great name.”
That is a sure promise that “they who water shall be watered,” and who is there that has endeavored to lead another heavenward, that has not felt, at one time or another, a double share of that living water refreshing his own soul?
With one arm round his little friend's neck, Louis wandered home, and, during the walk, easily persuaded Alfred not to say a word of what had passed; and as for Louis—oh, his eye was brighter, his step more buoyant, his heart full of gladness!
A little word, and I will close this long chapter. It is good for us to consider how unable we are to think and to do rightly ourselves: we must do so if we would be saved by Christ. When we have done all, we are unprofitable servants; but oh, how gracious—how incomprehensible is that love that puts into our minds good desires, brings the same to good effect, and rewards us for those things which He Himself has enabled us to do!