“No, thank you,” he said; “I always sleep in the dark.”
“You are a brave boy, I suppose,” said Mrs. Estcourt.
“I don’t know,” Arthur said; “but mother always says it is wrong to be afraid.”
“Wrong?” asked his aunt.
“Yes; because don’t you know, aunt, we ought to trust in God, mother says.”
“Then are you never afraid, dear Arthur?” his aunt was just going to say; but as she looked at him she saw that his lips were trembling, and that the tears were filling his eyes; for the mention of his mother’s name was bringing memories to Arthur, and he was thinking of the times in the old nursery at Ashton Grange, when he used to be frightened sometimes in the dark; and she had sat with him then, and told him about the angels of the Lord encamping round about them that fear Him, and about the kind, tender Lord Jesus, who takes care of all who put their trust in Him.
So she only put her arms around him, and kissed him very tenderly; and then she went away. It was only just in time; for as Arthur heard the door shut behind her, and knew that nobody would see or hear him, the tears that had been burning under his eyes all the evening came at last, and Arthur threw himself sobbing upon his bed. But his grief did not last long that night, for he was very tired and sleepy. He was excited too with the strange scenes and places, through which he had passed, and on which he was just entering; so it was not very long before he was sleeping as soundly in the white curtained bed, that his aunt had taken such pains to prepare for him, as he had ever done in the old room at Ashton Grange. That room was empty now. The little bed was there with the coverlet undisturbed, but no curly head lay on the pillow; and as Arthur’s mother stood there thinking of her little boy, and of the miles that lay between them, and that soon the broad ocean sweep would separate her from her child, her heart sank very low, and she thought that she was like Rachael, weeping for her children. But she was comforted, for she knew the comfort of having a Friend, who had borne her griefs and carried her sorrows; and when her heart was overwhelmed within her she said, “Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I;” and He said to her, “None of them that trust in Him shall be desolate.” She listened to His word that says, “Trust in Him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge for us.”
Is it not a happy thing, when a heart is full and bursting—so full that it cannot contain—to know that there is One, whose name is Love, before whom that heart can be poured out? Is it not the place where the Master would have His disciples, sitting at His feet, hearing His word? And is not that the cure for being careful and troubled about many things? And if our hearts have chosen that good part, we know that He has promised that it shall not be taken away. And as Arthur’s mother thought of this, she said, “Hide me under the shadow of thy wings.”