And yet, although everything around me was so pleasant, and though every one was so kind to me, I had not been many months at Alliston Hall before I began to feel restless and unhappy. For I felt that I was not walking so closely with God as I had done before. I had become cold and careless, rising late in the morning and hurrying over my prayers, and then going through the day in an idle, careless spirit, hardly ever thinking of my Lord or trying to please Him.
For some time this did not make me at all unhappy. I had so much to think of, and there were so many pleasant visitors staying in the house, and so many books to be read, and there was so much to be done to amuse Evelyn and to make the days pass happily for her, that I gave myself no time to think about the state of my soul. But the visitors left and we were quiet again; and then I felt an empty, dissatisfied feeling in my heart, which I cannot put into words. My conscience was very busy now, and brought to my recollection all my neglect of my best and dearest Friend, all my coldness and indifference to Him. I would have given anything to feel His presence as in times past; but He seemed far away from me, and I felt too cold even to pray to Him. But though I had so terribly forgotten Him, my Lord still remembered me.
It was Sunday afternoon. Evelyn had fallen asleep on the sofa, and I went out into the garden till she awoke. There had been showers all the morning, but now the sun was shining brightly, and the rain-drops were sparkling like diamonds on the grass.
I went along one of the grassy terraces, and turned down a quiet path, shut in by evergreens, which led by a gentle descent down to the sea. This was my favourite walk, and I always chose it when I came out alone. There were several seats on this path, so situated as to catch a peep of the sea through the shrubs and trees, which grew down to its very edge.
As I turned a corner in this winding path, I suddenly came upon Miss Lilla Irvine, sitting upon one of the seats reading her Bible. I apologised for disturbing her, and was going to turn back, when she asked me if I would not stay a little and read with her.
"You and I love the same Lord, May," she said; "I know we do, and I think it would help us to talk together of Him sometimes; at least," she added, "I am sure it would help me."
"Oh, Miss Irvine," I said, as I sat down beside her, "if you only knew—"
"If I only knew what?" she said, gently.
"If you only knew how careless I have been lately; I have hardly thought about Him at all."
"What has been the matter, May?" she asked.