“Yes; I suppose so—I am sure of it,” said Christie, gravely. “But the things most necessary for us to know and understand are easy for us; at least, with the help of the Holy Spirit they grow easy, I think. It is very plainly told us we are sinners and need a Saviour, that a Saviour has been provided, and those who come to Him He will in no wise cast out. These are the chief things; and besides these, we are assured of help and guidance and peace, all the way through to the end.”
Christie spoke slowly, striving to put into as few words as possible these precious truths of the Bible.
“You seem to know a great deal about these things, and to take a pleasure in them,” said Mrs Lee.
Christie shook her head. “I take pleasure in them, but I know very little. It is only lately that I have cared to learn. I am very ignorant.”
Ignorant though she was, the child knew more of God’s truth than her mistress; and many a word in season she spoke to her anxious heart during the long watches that they shared together in the sad times that followed that memorable day. They were words very simply and humbly spoken—rarely Christie’s own. They were passages of Scripture, or bits from the catechism, or remembered comments upon them made, in her hearing, by her father, or by Effie and her friends.
Nothing could have been farther from Christie’s thoughts than any intention of teaching. She did not dream how strange and new to her listener were the blessed truths that were beginning to present themselves so vividly to her own mind. She would have shrunk from the thought of presuming to teach, or even to suggest new trains of thought. In ordinary circumstances she might have found it difficult to converse long on any subject with Mrs Lee. But watching and anxiety, shared in the chamber over which hangs the shadow of a great dread, soon break down the barriers of reserve which a difference of age or position raises; and there seemed no inappropriateness in the grave, earnest words that now and then fell from the lips of the little maid. Indeed, weak in body and exhausted in mind as the troubles of the winter and spring had left her, Mrs Lee found positive rest and refreshment in the society which might at another time have seemed unsuitable; and mingled with the gratitude with which she saw Christie’s devotion to the sick child was a feeling of respect and admiration for the character which was gradually developing before her eyes.
How long the days and nights seemed! Little Harry’s robust frame and fine constitution availed him little. The fever raged with great violence; and the close of the week found the doctor still in doubt as to how it might end with him. His mother’s strength and hopefulness had held out wonderfully till this time; but when the baby, the fair and fragile little Ellinor, was stricken down, faith, strength, and courage seemed to fail her. It was not long, however. The child’s need gave the mother strength; and the baby needed nothing long. The other children were sent away to a friend’s house in the country; and silence, broken only by the moans of the little ones or the hushed voices of their anxious nurses, reigned through the house, lately echoing to far other sounds.
Before three silent days had passed, the mother knew that her baby must die. In the presence of her unutterable sorrow Christie was mute. The awe which fell upon her in the dread presence left her no words with which to comfort the stricken mother. But in her heart she never ceased through all that last long night to pray, “God comfort her.”
And she was comforted. Though her tears fell fast on the folded hands of her child as she said the words, they were humbly and reverently spoken:
“‘Thy will be done.’ It would have been harder to leave my child than to let her go!—and now one of my darlings is safe from all sorrow for ever!”