“Father,” said she, “I can have no secrets from you. I have never seen, never met him, of my own accord; and since he told me of his love to me, and he couldn’t help it—[That’s right, Lucy, defend him to the last!]—I’ve done my best to avoid him. I have told him that it can never be, and I would sooner die than grieve you, my dear, kind father. But I do love him with all my heart, and he loves me—I know he does—and I’m very miserable! Oh, tell me, tell me, what am I to do?”—And the girl flung herself into his arms in a paroxysm of tears.
“My poor lass!” said Nathan Blyth, stroking her hair and kissing her fair forehead. “It is as I feared. I am thankful that you have told me all about it. I can help you to bear your trouble, and we must both take it to God. Those who seek to do right and keep an honest conscience are sure to find comfort from Him. But, Lucy, my dear, you must not see him any more. It must be put a stop to, and if Master Philip will not keep away, I must go and see Squire Fuller myself. Cheer up, my darling! Let us do right, and God’s good Providence will pull us through. Now it’s getting late, so bring the Bible and let us hear what God the Lord doth say concerning us. I always find that He has a word in season for a heart in trouble.”
The book was brought Nathan turned to the thirty-fourth Psalm, and read, “The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry.... The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth and delivereth them out of all their troubles. The Lord is nigh unto all them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.” Then, kneeling down, he made his God their confidant, and “talked with Him face to face as a man talketh with his friend.” Lucy’s trouble, and her need of strength and guidance—her lack of a mother’s loving counsel and care—were all laid before the Throne of Grace. They rose to their feet in the sweet hush of a great calm. Lucy was comforted; her filial confidence had quickly brought its reward.
Happy parents they, whose children count them their truest friends and hold from them no secret reserves! Happy children, whose parents win their confidence and make common cause with them in their joys and sorrows! Happy both parents and children who are accustomed to take their needs to a loving and gracious God!
So Lucy dried her tears, resolved to govern her heart like a heroine—to do the duty that lay next her, and leave the rest to heaven. True, she went to bed to dream of Philip, but communion with her love had no embargo there. Thanks to her father’s love and her Redeemer’s care, no shadow of Black Morris or of overhanging trouble disturbed her repose.
Here for the present we leave the youthful lovers, assured that high principle, the love of Right and Truth, will hold them scathless; and, should the course of events widen the gap and intensify the obstacles between these two, we may rest content that both will bear their burdens with a loyal spirit and in submissive strength, and will come through the fire refined and purified, as it is the nature of sterling gold to do.
