“My child, the backward look over one’s life, is so different from the doubtful glances one sends into the future. I stand now, and see all the way by which God has led me, with a grieved wonder, that I should ever have doubted his love and care, and how it was all to end. The dark places, and the rough places that once made my heart faint with fear, are, to look back upon, radiant with light and beauty—Mounts of God, with the bright cloud overshadowing them. And yet, I mind groping about before them, like a bond man, with a fear and dread unspeakable.
“My child, are you hearing me? Oh! if my experience could teach you! I know it cannot be. The blessed lesson that suffering teaches, each must bear for himself; and I need not tell you that there never yet was sorrow sent to a child of God, for which there is no balm. You are young; and weary and spent as you are to-night, no wonder that you think at the sight, of the deep wastes you may have to pass, and the dreary waters you may have to cross. But there is no fear that you will be alone, dear, or that He will give you anything to do, or bear, and yet withhold the needed strength. Are you hearing me, my child?”
Graeme gave a mute sign of assent.
“Menie, dear child, has had a life bright and brief. Yours may be long and toilsome, but if the end be the same, what matter! you may desire to change with her to-night, but we cannot change our lot. God make us patient in it,—patient and helpful. Short as your sister’s life has been, it has not been in vain. She has been like light among us, and her memory will always be a blessedness—and to you Graeme, most of all.”
Graeme’s lips opened with a cry. Turning, she laid her face down on her father’s knee, and her tears fell fast. Her father raised her, and clasping her closely, let her weep for a little.
“Hush, love, calm yourself,” said he, at last. “Nay,” he added, as she would have risen, “rest here, my poor tired Graeme, my child, my best comforter always.”
Graeme’s frame shook with sobs.
“Don’t papa—I cannot bear it—”
She struggled with herself, and grew calm again.
“Forgive me, papa. I know I ought not. And indeed, it is not because I am altogether unhappy, or because I am not willing to let her go—”