I thanked Mrs. Marsden for her kind intentions, and then we all went to church and knelt together at the Lord's table. This sweet service did me more good than can be told, and after joining in it, I was enabled to shut out determinedly all memories and thoughts that would have interfered with the joyous celebration of Christmas in the household. I returned to High Lea looking and feeling happy, in a renewed sense of God's great love in Christ Jesus, and of His unchanging faithfulness.
There was much to occupy my attention. Children came for gifts, neighbours were entertained, and it was only after they all left, that Mrs. Marsden bestowed her Christmas gift, in this wise: she drew me into Mrs. Baxendell's boudoir, a charming little room off the large drawing-room, and bidding me sit by her, said:
"Christmas is the time for a fireside tale, my dear, and I want you to listen patiently whilst I tell one. It is about a mother and son who tenderly loved each other, for the husband and father was gone, and these two were associated alike in thought and work. I suppose all mothers look with a jealous eye at their lads, even when there are several, but when there is but one, he is all in all to a widowed parent."
"Well, this mother's great anxiety was that her son, when he grew to man's estate, should mate worthily, and perhaps she watched him too closely if his eyes wandered in the direction of any girl with whom he was in company. Perhaps, too, her very eagerness for his well-being was a little selfish, and stood in the way of his comfort. Only she did not know this at first."
"Again and again the mother interfered, less by word than with a sort of management by which she contrived to carry him away from neighbourhoods which she thought dangerous. But I daresay the young man smiled as he yielded, knowing that he was heart-whole, and that the change mattered little to him."
"You must not think that the mother wanted a rich or titled wife for her son. He had wealth enough for both. But she dreaded the thought of his being married for the sake of it, and not from the true love and esteem which alone can make marriage happy."
"She saw, too—more's the pity that such should ever be—that girls showed themselves eager to attract the young man's notice, and practised little airs and graces, and threw themselves in his way, even mothers openly lending themselves to such scheming."
"The young man saw these things too. He was not blind, and he kept aloof and never committed himself by word or deed. He was courteous to all, but waited until he should see the girl whom he might endow, not with his worldly goods alone, but with the richer gift of a whole, true, pure heart—such a girl as he could reverently take to his own heart and home, as a most precious gift from God."
"He met this girl by a strange incident, in a far-away spot and at a farmhouse. Do not start, dear child; hear me out. He wished to tell her what was in his heart, but love for the old mother made him determine first to speak to her, and he hoped to go back to the farm carrying her consent and blessing along with his love story, to its object. He was half afraid, too, for you must know that he did not quite understand the old mother with whom he had passed his twenty-five years of life. He thought she might wish him to choose a girl who had riches as well as worth. Whereas, what the mother wanted was a girl of this kind: well-born and educated, pure-minded, modest, requiring to be sought before she was won, bright in temper, unselfish in disposition, brave where courage was needed, and yet thankful, as woman should be, to lean on a strong arm, if it pleased God to give her one in the shape of a good husband. And the mother thought that the girl could not be all these things unless she had the love of God in her heart, and thus shining out in her daily life."
"Money immaterial, she wanted her son to have the fortune in his wife."