"He is here, too," murmured poor Mrs. Mathieson.
"Mother," said Nettie, tenderly, "aren't those good words,—'He hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard?' I have thought of those words, very often."
Nettie wished she could sing, for she had often seen singing comfort her mother; but she had not the power to-day. She gave her the best she could. Her words, however, constantly carried hurt and healing together to her mother's mind. But when Nettie went on to repeat softly the verse of a hymn that follows, she was soothed, notwithstanding the hinted meaning in the words. So sweet was the trust of the hymn, so unruffled the trust of the speaker. The words were from a little bit of a book of translations of German hymns which Mr. Folke, her Sunday-school teacher, had brought her, and which was never out of Nettie's hand.
"'As God leads me so my heart
In faith shall rest.
No grief nor fear my soul shall part
From Jesus' breast.
In sweet belief I know
What way my life doth go—
Since God permitteth so—
That must be best.'"
Slowly she said the words, with her usual sober, placid face; and Mrs. Mathieson was mute.
For some weeks, as the spring breathed warmer and warmer, Nettie revived; so much that her mother at times felt encouraged about her. Mr. Mathieson was never deceived. Whether his former neglect of his child had given him particular keenness of vision in all that concerned her now, or for whatever reason, he saw well enough and saw constantly that Nettie was going to leave him. There was never a wish of hers uncared for now; there was not a straw suffered to lie in her path, that he could take out of it. He went to church, and he read at home; he changed his behaviour to her mother as well as to herself, and he brought Barry to his bearings. What more did Nettie want?
One Sunday, late in May, Nettie had stayed at home alone while the rest of the family were gone to church, the neighbour down stairs having promised to look after her. She needed no looking after, though; she spent her time pleasantly with her Bible and her hymns, till feeling tired she went to her room to lie down. The windows were open; it was a very warm day; the trees were in leaf, and from her bed Nettie could only see the sunshine in the leaves, and in one place through a gap in the trees, a bit of bright hill-side afar off. The birds sang merrily, and nothing else sounded at all; it was very Sabbath stillness. So Nettie lay till she heard the steps of the church-goers returning; and presently, after her mother had been there and gone, her father came into her room to see her. He kissed her, and said a few words, and then went to the window and stood there looking out. Both were silent some time, while the birds sang on.
"Father," said Nettie.
He turned instantly, and asked her what she wanted.
"Father," said Nettie, "the streets of the city are all of gold."