If so, she was not long in having a reminder, for after a while a gentle tap came to the school-room door, and her little four-year-old cousin, Minnie (her special pet and plaything) entered. Tears shone in the bright blue eyes.
"No cry, Cousin 'Nona;' Minnie so sorry 'cause you cry. Why do 'ou? Has 'ou been naughty, Cousin 'Nona'?"
The girl stooped to take the child on her lap, saying as she did so, "Yes, Minnie, I am afraid 'Nona' is not good to-day. She can't be, somehow."
The blue eyes were raised in amazement. "But, 'Nona,' Jesus can make 'ou good. Mamma says so. Did 'ou ask him?"
Ere her cousin could answer, the child was called away; but her words lingered, and although Nora did not bend the knee, I think she did ask Jesus to help her; but, like the boy and the runaway knock, she never looked for nor expected an answer. Still her mother's desire and her talks with Ronald were not forgotten, though she made small progress in the heavenward path.
Mrs. Macleod watched her at this time anxiously, and half hoped that she had begun the pilgrimage to the Celestial City, of which she loved so much to read in Bunyan's wonderful allegory; but again she would be disheartened, not at childish failures, but when for days at a time, the girl would seem to give up all battling against her besetting sins, all seeking to walk in the right path.
In all womanly matters Nora received a good training in her Highland home. From her childhood, her aunt showed her many household matters, and instructed her in them; and a very useful little maiden she proved in many ways. It was she who had the knitting and darning of Eric's stockings, the sewing on of buttons to his shirts. She also hemmed both his and her uncle's pocket-handkerchiefs, and was always eager to help her aunt in any work to which she could put her hand.
Unknown to herself, she was learning many of the accomplishments for which the wise king extols the virtuous woman: and in stretching out her hands to the needy, Nora had to make no effort; never did a more loving, tender heart beat in a human breast. No wonder she was loved in the cottages of the poor. It was a sight, to see the bright little child, as she tripped over the hills and through the heather with a flagon full of soup to carry to some poor bedridden old woman.
She was very happy then; and somehow, after Ronald's departure, she seemed to love those messages of mercy more than ever. A thousand welcomes, spoken in the Gaelic tongue, greeted her as she entered the cottages of the poor, and the very look of her large soft eyes cheered their lonely hearts. Her uncle declared she had a God-given gift of nursing: no hand could smooth a pillow so well as Nora's; no one could be more skilful in cooling a burning forehead, and shading the light from aching eyes, than she was; and no foot could tread more gently in a sick-room than hers did; and no voice sounded more sweet than hers as she read aloud a page to the suffering one from God's own Word. No wonder those who knew her best hoped she had become a "ministering child" from love to the One who came to earth not to be "ministered unto, but to minister."
Only the sharp eyes of Widow Cameron read her aright. "Eh, but she's a winsome lassie," she would say to herself; "and wi' as kind a heart as her ain mither had, and weel inclined too. Maybe she's seekin' the right road, but I fear me she hasna got in at the Wicket Gate yet; and for as bonnily as she reads the Book o' Life, she hasna learned in truth to say o' our blessed Lord, 'My God, and my Saviour.'"