While Robert and Harold were thus engaged, Mary told Frank to amuse himself not far away, and that after she had looked over her own lessons she would call for him. In the act of going to her room, she was arrested by the voice of Sam, who said:
"Please, misses, Mas Robert and Mas Harold both gone away; and if you can, read some of the Bible to your poor sick servant--do, misses."
Touched by his melancholy earnestness, she promised to do so with pleasure, after having finished Frank's lessons and her own; and indeed, urged on by his apparent thankfulness, she dispatched her task in one-half the usual time, and then called for Frank.
"What! have you learned your lessons already?" he asked, in some surprise. She replied, "Yes." "Then," said he, "I wish you would make mine as short, for it took you a very little while." But when she informed him of the secret of her rapidity, and he heard a plaintive, half-devotional sigh from Sam's corner, he said, "Get the book, sister; I will learn as fast as I can, and then we can both go and sit by him, while you read." Mary patted his cheek, saying that he was a good fellow, whenever he chose to be; and giving him the book, he stood by her side, and learnt his lessons very soon, and very well.
The chapter selected at Sam's request was the third of John. With this he was so well acquainted as to be able to repeat verse after verse, while Mary was reading, and he seemed withal to have a very clear idea of its meaning. Mary was surprised. She knew that her father was in the habit of calling his plantation negroes together on Sabbath evenings, and instructing them from the Scriptures, but she had no idea that the impressions made by his labour had been so deep.
It was not until half-past eleven that they were all assembled and composed. They sang several hymns, then conversed freely upon the subject of the chapter, which had interested them in the morning, and on which they had promised to reflect. These exercises occupied them so pleasantly that it was past the usual hour ere any one thought of dinner.
A part of Dr. Gordon's custom had been to call upon each of his children every day at their midday meal, to tell what "new knowledge" they had gained since that hour of the day preceding. On Sundays the same plan was pursued, except that the knowledge was required to be suitable to the day. This practice was on the present occasion resumed by the young people. Frank's new knowledge consisted of part of his morning lesson; Mary's, of a new method devised by her for remembering the order of certain books in the Bible; Robert's, of the aim and object of the parable just discussed: it was a keen rebuke to the Scribes and Pharisees, who murmured against Jesus for receiving sinners and eating with them. When Harold's turn came, he spoke with much emotion, and a face radiant with pleasure. He said that he had on that day learnt the most important lesson of his life; how good the Lord is, and how great a sinner he himself had been; he had learnt how to love Him, and how to trust Him; how to read the Bible, and how to pray. He was not able to tell how it happened, but there was now a meaning in the Scriptures, and a sweetness in prayer, that he had never before suspected, and that he hoped it would last for ever. He concluded by saying that he could conceive of no greater blessing than that of being enabled to feel all his life-long as he felt that morning, after promising to try to live like a Christian.
To these remarks of Harold no one made reply. Robert looked down a moment, then directed his gaze far away, as if disturbed by some painful recollection. Mary gazed wistfully on her cousin, and covered her face with both hands. Frank slid from his seat, and coming to Harold's side, insinuated himself upon his knee, and looked affectionately into his face. All felt that a great event had happened in their little circle; and that from that time forth their amiable cousin was in a most important sense their superior. They separated in silence, Robert going to the spring, Mary to her room, and Harold to talk with Sam.
Late in the afternoon they went together to the seashore, and sitting around their flag-staff, on the clear white sand, looked over the gently rippling waters, and talked thankfully of their merciful deliverance, and of their pleasant Island of Refuge. The air became chilly, and the stars peeped out, before they sought the tent. Again soft music stole upon the night air, and floated far over the sands and waters. Then all was hushed. The youthful worshippers had retired. And so softly did sleep descend upon their eyelids, and so peacefully did the night pass, that one might almost have fancied angels had become their guardians, were it not for the still more animating thought that the God of the angels was there, and that He "gave his beloved sleep."
CHAPTER XXIV