Then he seemed to be thinking; and after some little time, he said, “I wish he would not talk like that, I wish I could make him see.”
“Who, dear?”
“Edgar North, auntie. I always thought he was very cross and disagreeable, but it is not that, at all. It is because he is so unhappy. I do wish I had thought of one other thing to say to him.”
“What was it, Arthur?” asked his aunt.
“Why, you know, he is so frightened. Fancy,” and Arthur’s voice was soft and low, “he is afraid of the Lord Jesus Christ. That must be, because he does not know Him, must it not, auntie? And I wish I had said to him, ‘If the Lord Jesus were to come walking towards us now, and sit down here, would you be afraid to see Him?’”
“And would not you, dear Arthur?” asked his aunt.
“Why, no, Aunt Daisy! How could I? The little children that He took up in His arms were not. I am sure I should not be afraid.”
Mrs. Estcourt did not say anything, but she was thinking of what Arthur had said. It seemed to her then, that it must be very sweet to be one of the little children, that the Lord Jesus had blessed; for she often felt very lonely and weary. Some people—those who only care for the things that gold can bring—might say she had everything that she wanted; but her heart craved a great deal more than this, and when her husband went away from her sight for ever, she had felt as if he had taken her heart with him. There was One, who had said to her long before, “Give me thine heart;” but she had not listened to His voice, and she had not thought about His love; greater than which, there is none. She was trusting in Him for salvation, but she was not looking to Him, to feed her heart with His love. She was following Him afar off, too far to be able to say, “I sat down under His shadow with great delight; and His fruit was sweet to my taste.”
