“No, indeed,” said Effie. “I don’t look on it in that light; but—”
“Yes; I ken what you would say. It’s ay Christie you’re thinking about. But she’ll be none the worse for a little discipline. She would soon have been an utter vexation, if she had been kept at home. You spoiled your sister with your petting and coaxing, till there was no doing with her. I’m sure I dinna see why she’s to be pitied more than Annie.”
Effie had no reply to make. If she was foolish and unreasonable in her fears for Christie, her aunt’s manner of pointing out her fault was not likely to prove it to her. She did not wish to hear more. Perhaps she was foolish, she thought. Good Mrs Nesbitt, who was not likely to be unjust to Christie, and who was ready to sympathise with the elder sister in what seemed almost like the breaking-up of the family, said something of the same kind to her once, as they were walking together from the Sabbath-school.
“My dear,” she said, “you are wrong to vex yourself with such thoughts. Your aunt is partly right. Christie will be none the worse for the discipline she may have to undergo. There are some traits in her character that haven a fairly shown themselves yet. She will grow firm and patient and self-reliant, I do not doubt. I only hope she will grow stronger in body too.”
Effie sighed.
“She was never very strong.”
“If she shouldna be well, she must come home; and, Effie, though I would never say to an elder sister that she could be too patient and tender to one of the little ones—and that one sometimes wilful and peevish, and no’ very strong—yet Christie may be none the worse, for a wee while, no’ to have you between her and all trouble. My dear, I know what you would say. I know you have something like a mother’s feeling for the child. But even a mother canna bear every burden or drink every bitter drop for her child. And it is as well she canna do it. If Christie’s battle with life and what it brings begins a year or two earlier than you thought necessary, she may be all the better able to conquer. Dinna fear for her. God will have her in His keeping.”
Effie strove to find a voice to reply; but she could only say:
“Perhaps I am foolish. I will try.”
“My dear,” continued her friend, kindly, “I dinna wonder that you are careful and troubled, and a wee faithless, sometimes. You have passed through much sorrow of late, and your daily labour is of a kind that is trying to both health and spirits. And I doubt not you have troubles that are of a nature not to be spoken of. But take courage. There’s nothing can happen to you but what is among the ‘all things’ that are to work together for your good. For I do believe you are among those to whom has been given a right to claim that promise. You are down among the mist now; I am farther up the brae, and get a glimpse, through the cloud, of the sunshine beyond. Dinna fret about Christie, or about other things. I believe you are God-guided; and what more can you desire? As the day wears on, the clouds may disperse; and even if they shouldna, my bairn, the sun still shines in the lift above them.”