Left at Home / or, The Heart's Resting Place

by Mary L. Code

“I’m sure you are not cross here,” said Arthur. “Edgar, do tell me about your getting so happy.”

“Oh, yes; and I want to tell you about Cousin Amy too. Well, you know, it was rather miserable when first I came, and I had to be up here all alone; and I used to cry so, Arthur, thinking about you—I dare say it was like a baby; but I could not help it—and about papa. Oh, I did so want to see papa! and it did not make me happy to think about the Lord Jesus and heaven. But Cousin Amy came; and she used to sit here and read me little bits, and hymns; one was that one I said a bit of, and others. And she was so kind; she used to get me nice cool things to take; and sometimes she would fan me, and put her hand on my head when it was so hot; and, oh, I was so sorry when she was gone. One evening I was crying, and then I began thinking about the last verses she had read to me. You know, it was that part about the Lord feeding the multitude; and then He sent the disciples away in a boat, and went by Himself to pray; and I thought if I had been alive then, and that I had known He was away in that mountain by Himself, I would have got out of bed, and would have found my way to Him; and it would have been so nice with nobody there but Himself and me on the great lonely mountain! I should have felt so safe with Him anywhere. And then I began to think what He would have said to me; and I thought it would be, ‘Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’ Then I would have stayed, you know, because He would not send me away. And I thought He would have put His arms round me; and how safe I would have felt! And then I began thinking that I could do just the same in bed where I was, because He could see and hear just the same; so I said to Him, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, I am here at Thy feet;’ and I said to Him that hymn, ‘Just as I am.’ It was so happy. And now to think of all the things He has given me—everlasting life, and the forgiveness of my sins, and so much! And, Arthur, I am just keeping there now until I go to sleep, and I shall be with Him for ever.”

“Oh, Edgar,” said Arthur, “I am glad you are so happy.”

Edgar had talked so much that he was exhausted; and he had to lie back on the pillows, breathing very quickly.

So they stayed quiet for a little while; and the firelight glowed and danced on Arthur’s brown curls, and lighted his ruddy cheeks that seemed to make the paleness of Edgar’s greater.

“Edgar,” said Arthur, “you will not be able to come to Ashton Grange now. Don’t you remember when we said you would? I did think it would have been so nice.”

“Yes; I remember,” a little shade passing over Edgar’s face. “I used to think it would be so nice. But, Arthur, it is better to go to the Lord Jesus; it is the Father’s house, you know, and my father and mother are there; and it is my own home.”

Edgar’s voice had been getting weaker while he was speaking the last time; and as Arthur looked at him, it seemed even to him, who knew so little about illness, that Edgar must be worse.

“Edgar,” he said, “I am going now, because I know you are tired; and nurse told me you would want something to eat when I went, so I shall send her to you. Good-night, Edgar, dear Edgar.”

He did not try to keep Arthur that night; and the “good-night” he said to him was faintly spoken; but there was a loving look in his dark eye as he watched his friend to the door.