Look on the sunny side

by Ruth Lamb

At this moment a little scene, witnessed years before, was vividly recalled to the widow's mind. It had chanced that she had been entrusted with the care of a much-spoiled child, when she was quite a girl; and the little urchin being denied the possession of a watch, had refused all the toys suitable to his age, which had been provided in abundance. She recalled to mind how he had dashed aside the proffered playthings, and even stamped upon them with his little feet, refusing all her efforts to make him happy because the one thing was withheld.

"I have been like that child for all these long years," said Margaret to herself, and the thought brought her upon her knees.

Kind Mrs. Elwood would have been rejoiced could she have seen how God was answering the prayer which she, in the quiet of her chamber, was offering for her friend, that she might receive light from above, and that the eyes which were blind to His goodness might be opened, the cold heart warmed by Divine grace, and the orphan child made happy in a mother's love and sympathy.

Truly God's ways are not as our ways. During that lonely hour by her still fireside, the dim twilight shutting out the external world, Margaret Henderson was taught the lesson which for more than eight long years she had been refusing to learn. When she rose from her knees, it was with an humble desire to place herself in God's hands, and a resolution to prove herself thankful for past and present mercies.

Naturally her first thought was of Effie, and of the lack of maternal love which was due to the little one. She felt that she had often been too harsh; but here arose her first difficulty. It was comparatively easy to acknowledge her errors to God; but how change her conduct to the little one without at least owning that hitherto she, and not Effie, had been to blame for the gloom in their home and the cloud on the child's brow.

With a new-born perception of the value of her little daughter's love, Margaret Henderson felt a jealous dread of doing anything which might lower her in Effie's eyes, and she therefore hesitated for some time before she even determined on stealing quietly to the room to which the child had been banished. She took no light in her hand; and when she stood by the bed, nothing but the feeble ray from the new moon showed the couch in dim outline, though she could not see the child.

There was no movement when she reached the bedside, and she was about to steal softly away, feeling relieved at the thought that Effie had forgotten her troubles in sleep, and resolving that, by God's blessing, a new life should begin with the awaking. But first she bent to kiss the little sleeper, and she was startled at the clammy coldness of the cheek. She listened; she could not hear Effie breathe.

Then she gave utterance to an exceeding bitter cry. "She is dead; my child, my darling!" For there, in the almost entire darkness, the conviction rushed on her mind that, to punish her rebellious and unthankful spirit, she had been permitted to become sensible of her blessings, only that she might lose the greatest and most precious of the many that were left to her. Who can describe the agony of that moment? The mother believing the child dead, from whom she had parted in anger, unreasonable anger, a few hours before!

Oh, the terrible torrent of remorse that passed through the widow's mind, while, with trembling steps, she hurried to find a light, and then returned to look on what she believed to be Effie's corpse. And oh, what joy to see one blue eye unclose, and then to hear a faint sigh! To know that she was spared a terrible trial, and a life-time of bitter self-upbraidings!

The real truth was that Effie had swooned from the effects of fright. She had lain awake all those long hours, feeling sad and miserable, weary of solitude, and compelled still to bear it until sleep should bring forgetfulness. At length the dim rays of the young moon had just sufficed to show a dark figure stealing noiselessly towards her bed. Her mother never came thus, she thought; and dreading some evil, the poor child became senseless from very terror, her over-wrought nerves being unable to withstand its effects.