The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

'Small danger of that!' Hazel thought, going back to his remark, as she went back into the house. But it was not such a question that brought the little hands in so weary fashion over her face. She stood very still for a minute, and then went swiftly upstairs to finish the work which Dr. Maryland had interrupted. That could not wait; and Hazel was learning, slowly, that the indulgence of one's own sorrow can. So the work was well done; only with two or three sighs breathed over it, which gave kind Mrs. Bywank a heartache for the rest of the day. But then Hazel hastily swallowed a cup of the chicken broth and went off to her room. It had come now, without if or perhaps, and she could only sit down and face it. The one person in all the world to whom she belonged,the only one that belonged to her!

For a while, in the bitterness of the knowledge that he was sick, Hazel seemed to herself half benumbed; and sat stupidly dwelling on that one fact, feeling it, and yet less with a sense of pain than of an intolerable burden. A weight that made her stir and move sometimes, as if she could get away from it so. It was no use to tell her not to anticipate; to say he was not much sick; that was thin ice, which would not bear. And now on a sudden Hazel found herself confronted with a new enemy, and was deep in the fight. What then? Only her own will in a new shape.

She had come out so gently and sweetly, so clearly too, from the months of restless perplexity and questioning; she had agreed, she had decided, that her will should be the Lord's will. Now came a sudden sharp test. She had chosen heaven, with earth yet in her hand,how if earth were taken away? And what if to do the Lord's will should be all that was left her, to fill her life? Did her consent, did her acceptance, reach so far?

AndOh how hard that was!to study the question, she must throw full upon it the light (or the darkness) of things that might be. Things that she would not have let any one say to her, knife- edged possibilities, came and went and came again, till Hazel stopped her ears and buried her face in the cushions and did everything in the world to shut them out. What use? she had to consider them. Was she willing now that the Lord should do what he pleased with _him?_She could not word it any other way. And the fight was long: and time and again pain came in such measure that she could attend only to that. And so the day went by, with occasional interruptions, and then the unbroken night.

She could submit,she must submit: could she accept? Nothing was anything without that. And she was getting almost too worn out to know whether she could or not. So she would sit, with her face buried in her hands, putting those fearful questions to herself, and with answering shivers running over her from head to foot. Then would come an interval of restless pacing the floor, thinking all sorts of things; chiefly, that the very minute it was light she would set off for Morton Hollow. What would that serve? what could she do, if she were there? But one Hand could meddle with these things, and work its will. And for a while a bitter sense of the Lord's absolute power seemed to lie on her head and heart till she felt crushed. She could not walk any longer, she could not debate questions; she could only lay her head against the arm of the chair and sit still, bearing that dull pain, and starting at the sharp twinges that now and then shot through it.

There came to her at last, as she sat there, suddenly, the old words. Words read to her so long ago, and learned so lately. They had reached her need then, and there she had in a sort left them, bound up with that. But once more now they came, so new, so glorious, all filled with light.

"For the love of Christ constraineth us"!The key to life work, but no less to life endurance. And the key turned softly, and the bolts flew back, and Wych Hazel covered her face saying eagerly, 'Yes, yes!'

But then, even with the saying, she broke quite down, and a stormy flood of tears swept over her, and left her at last asleep.

There was no going back when the day dawned. But Hazel soon found that this question was not to be ended once for all, like the other. It came up anew with each new morning, and must be so met, and answered: in full view of what unknown possibilities the day might bring or the night have brought, the assenting 'yes' must be spoken. The struggle was long, sometimes, and sometimes it was late before she left her room; but those who saw her face of victory when she came would remember it always.

Still, the days were long. And hearts are weak; and Hazel grew exceedingly weary. Chafing most of all against the barriers that kept her from Morton Hollow. At first, when Dr. Maryland left her that night she thought she should go with the sunrise next day. Then recollected herself.