"Nae, Wullie, I ken better than that; but I hae changed my purpose, and I hae asked help o' the Strang Ane. That is what Katy said I must do. Puir lass! I am sure she has kenned the comfort o' gaen to him mony times when sairly tried wi' me."
"It is gude to go to the Lord in times o' trial," said Wullie; "and it is gude to go to him wi' thankful hearts when the trials are o'erpast. I hae nae doot, Mistress McPherson, but that ye find it baith pleasant and profitable to come wi' your heart full o' gratitude and praise to him wha has heard your prayers."
"Ay, I like weel to acknowledge his gudeness to me in saving Donald frae the evil that threatened him; but it grieves me noo to think I had sae nearly distrusted Him because He didna answer my prayers at ance. Mony a time did I a'maist feel that there is nae gude in prayer, and that God wouldna hear a puir body like me. But I dinna think he has set it doun against me, sin' he has answered my prayer. Besides, he kens I was but a weak woman, and sairly tried forbye."
Tears filled Jeannie's eyes. Katy's experience had been her own. And although it recalled her trials, to which she would not allude, because we instinctively cover the faults and follies of our dear dead, she felt, nevertheless, drawn towards Katy. Both had had trials, but not more than they were able to bear; and the discipline of an all-wise Father had chastened and strengthened them both.
"We a' hae cause for thankfulness ilka day o' oor lives," Wullie hastened to say, as he perceived Jeannie's emotion. "Let nane o' us be remiss in the duty o' prayer and thanksgiving."
This visit proved the precursor of many others, and the two women became good friends. Wullie strengthened Jeannie's good impressions of Katy McPherson.
"She was aye a canny lass," he said. "Folk wondered that she wedded wi' sic a giddy chiel as Donald was; but if he sticks to his ward noo, he will mak a gude living for her, for he can wark weel when he sets himsel to it, and naebody can ootstrip him in the harvest-field."
Donald soon learned to go to honest Wullie for advice, and he was as anxious to meet him as he had been to avoid him. He seemed changed in many ways. His new hope and trust had lifted him above that frivolity which had always been so prominent a characteristic of his. He found the influence of his wife much more elevating than that of his boon companions, and he said to her, "Ye s'all see what a man can be made oot o' me, frolickin' as I hae been. I would na wonder if folk s'ould yet ca' me 'douce Donald.'"
Wullie's garden proved a success, and the fresh, tender vegetables added much to the frugal fare. Then, as Donald had said, Jeannie made the most of everything. Her skill in cooking also added to their comfort. Her neat, orderly ways were everywhere apparent. It was a pretty sight to see the three rosy children, with clean hands and faces, clean pinafores, and carefully combed hair, gathered at the family board, Annie seated on her mother's knee, the others on their stools. They were trained to be obedient and respectful, to keep the Sabbath with due strictness, and, above all, to fear and honor God. Thus not only shadows, but sunshine, too, rested on the little moorland cottage. Peace and harmony reigned in the household, and signs of thrift were also apparent. Wullie could now sometimes allow himself the pleasure of bringing little gifts to the children, and their childish delight hardly surpassed his own.
Jeannie did not forget to thank God for the blessings she enjoyed. And although the recollection of the early death of her husband often brought sorrow to her heart and a shade of sadness to her countenance, the sorrow was softened by the cherished hope of his eternal happiness and a future reunion. Thus passed two years more, but these were years of comparative comfort.