Her heart involuntarily turned to the great helper, but what could or would he do for her? — it was his will she was thwarting. Nevertheless, "to whom should she go?" — the shaken needle of her mind's compass turned more and more steadily to its great centre. There was light in no other quarter but on that 'wicket-gate' towards which Bunyan's Pilgrim first long ago set off to run. With some such sorrowful blind looking, she opened to her chapter of Matthew again, and carelessly and sadly turned over a leaf or two; till she saw a word which though printed in the ordinary type of the rest, stood out to her eyes like the lettering on a signboard. "ASK." —
"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."
The tears came then with a gush.
"Ask what? — it doesn't say, —but it must be whatever my difficulty needs — there is no restriction. 'Knock'! — I will — till it is opened to me — as it will be! —"
The difficulty was not gone — the mountain had not suddenly sunk to a level; but she had got a clue to get over the one, and daylight had broken through the other. Elizabeth felt not changed at all; no better, and no tenderer; but she laid hold of those words as one who has but uncertain footing puts his arms round a strong tree, — she clung as one clings there; and clasped them with assurance of life. Ask? — did she not ask, with tears that streamed now; she knocked, clasping that stronghold with more glad and sure clasp; she knew then that everything would be 'made plain' in the rough places of her heart.
She did not sit still long then for meditation or to rest; her mood was action. She took her bible from the moss, and with a strong beating sense both of the hopeful and of the forlorn in her condition, she walked slowly through the grass to the steps of her house door. As she mounted them a new thought suddenly struck her, and instead of turning to the right she turned to the left.
"Mrs. Nettley," said Elizabeth as she entered the sitting- room, "isn't it very inconvenient for you to be staying here with me?"
Good Mrs. Nettley was sitting quietly at her work, and looked up at this quite startled.
"Isn't it inconvenient for you?" Elizabeth repeated.
"Miss Haye! — it isn't inconvenient; — I am very glad to do it — if I can be of any service —"