The Project Gutenberg EBook of Left to Ourselves, by Catharine Shaw This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Left to Ourselves or, John Headley's Promise. Author: Catharine Shaw Release Date: October 3, 2011 [EBook #37606] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT TO OURSELVES *** Produced by Chris Curnow, Mark Young, Lindy Walsh and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net LEFT TO OURSELVES; OR JOHN HEADLEY'S PROMISE. Left to Ourselves; OR, John Headley's Promise. BY CATHARINE SHAW, AUTHOR OF "AT LAST;" "ALICK'S HERO;" "THE GABLED FARM;" "ONLY A COUSIN;" ETC. NEW EDITION. LONDON: JOHN F. SHAW AND CO., 48, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I.THE FIVE 9 II.A PACKET 14 III.THE DARK CAVERN: AN ALLEGORY 19 IV.RESCUED 27 V.NEW ROBES 33 VI.AT LAST 37 VII.LAST DAYS 43 VIII.ONE INJUNCTION 52 IX.THE FIRST SUNDAY ALONE 65 X.THE GOLDEN OIL: AN ALLEGORY 74 XI.A CUPBOARD OF RUBBISH 85 XII.JOHN'S PROMISE 92 XIII.HUGH'S PROMISE 101 XIV.CHRISTMAS-DAY 109 XV.WHERE ONE PUDDING WENT 118 XVI.THE RAG CUSHION 128 XVII.THE LAST PUDDING 136 XVIII.NEW YEAR'S EVE 142 XIX.WORRIED 151 XX.A SURPRISE 158 XXI.THE MAGIC OF LOVE 169 XXII.MINNIE'S SECRET 177 XXIII.THE END OF THE JOURNEY 185 CHAPTER I. THE FIVE. other, I'm sure you may trust me!" "My child, I trust you for all that you know; but there are things which no one but a mother can know." "Of course there are. Oh, I don't for a moment mean that I shall do as well as you, mother, only——" "Yes," answered Mrs. Headley, thoughtfully, "you see, Agnes, your dear grandmother in America is pronounced to be failing very fast. I have not seen her for twenty years, and if I do not go now I may never see her again in this world." "And father's having to go there on business now makes it so easy." "Easy all but leaving you children." "But I am nineteen now, mother—quite old enough to be trusted; besides, grandmama and aunt Phyllis live next door, and if anything happened I could run in to them." Mrs. Headley smiled, looking half convinced. "Who is it you are afraid to leave?" asked Agnes coaxingly. "Is it me, mother?" "You?" echoed Mrs. Headley, stroking her face tenderly. "No, not you, dear." "Then it is John." "No, no; John is a good boy, he will help you I am sure." "Then is it Hugh?" "No; Hugh is steady, and very fond of his lessons; and he will be sure to do as you wish him, if he promises beforehand." "Then is it Alice?" Mrs. Headley shook her head. "Then it must be Minnie, for there's no one else. And as to Minnie, you know I love her exactly as if she were my own child." Mrs. Headley laughed a little, though bright tears filled her eyes and fell down into her lap. "Don't you think I do?" asked Agnes soberly—not half liking the little laugh, or the tears either for that matter. "You love her as much as you possibly can, dearest, but that does not give you my experience. No, Agnes, it is not Minnie or any one in particular, but it is the five of you all together that I'm afraid to leave. I am so afraid they might get tired of doing as you said." "They never have yet, mother. You ask them, and see." [9] M [ 10] [ 11] Mrs. Headley looked thoughtfully into the fire, and was silent for a long time. So was Agnes, till at last she roused up suddenly and put her hand into her mother's. "There's one Friend I shall always have near, nearer than next door; always at hand to help and counsel—eh, mother dear? We had not forgotten Him, only we did not say anything actually about Him." "Yes, my child, I do not forget; and if I were more trustful I should not be so afraid." Mrs. Headley rose and left the room just as the door opened, and John came in. "Holloa, Agnes, all alone in the dark," he exclaimed, stumbling over the stools and chairs. "Why don't you have a light?" "Mother and I were talking, and we did not want any." "About America? Don't I wish it was me instead of her, that's all!" "But, you see, that is not the question," said Agnes, watching her brother lean back against the mantelpiece with nervous eyes. "John, you'll knock something down." "Not I. Of course it isn't the question; but why doesn't mother want to go?" "She does want to go; only, you see, John, she's afraid we shall not all get on together." "Is she afraid we shall quarrel?" Agnes nodded. "I shan't." "Perhaps not." "But Hugh will?" he asked, smiling. "Hugh and John together," answered Agnes, smiling too. "Very likely." "Do you think you will?" asked his sister, drawing back. "What a frightened question! Agnes, look here; I'll promise you——" "What?" "It takes two to make a quarrel, doesn't it?" "Yes." "Then I'll promise you to walk out of the room at the first indication of a squabble. Will that make things straight?" "If you will not forget." "If I do, you look at me, and I'll fly, or be 'mum'!" "All right, I will," answered Agnes soberly. "John, I believe mother thinks she ought to go, and so I am sure we ought to make it easy." "I mean to." Agnes kissed him gratefully, but did not speak, yet John understood, and when she had gone out of the room he fancied he felt a tear left on his coat. He roused himself up, and turned round to poke the fire into a blaze. "My eye!" he ejaculated, half audibly, "it will be a go to do without mother for three months." [ 12] [ 13] [ 14] CHAPTER II. A PACKET. other, here is a nice little square packet come for you by post!" said Minnie as Mrs. Headley entered the dining-room the next morning. "Yes; Minnie has been turning it, and twisting it, and weighing it, and smelling it—doing everything except open it," said John, laughing. "I do wish to know what it is though!" said Minnie shyly, "and I believe John wants to see just as much as I do." "I will open it presently," answered their mother, smiling, while she seated herself at the head of the table. "Minnie is always rather curious," observed Hugh, looking up from a lesson he had been conning over. "This is something which will rouse your curiosity, and I will see who can tell me the meaning of it," answered Mrs. Headley. "Then you know what it is, mother?" asked Minnie. Her mother assented; and when they had finished breakfast, and their father had gone off to his business, Mrs. Headley took up the little package and began untying the knots. "Cut it," said Alice. "Catch mother cutting a knot if she can undo it," laughed Hugh, gathering his books together. "It's a good thing it is Saturday," said John, "or we couldn't wait, however curious we might be." "There, it is undone!" said Minnie, pressing nearer. As she spoke the paper fell open, and two dozen little square books came tumbling out. The children were going to seize upon them, when Mrs. Headley placed her hand over them, taking up one at the same moment, saying. "What is this, now?" "A little book," said John. "Has it reading in it?" She opened the first page, and to their astonishment there was nothing but a page of black to be seen. "What a strange book!" said Hugh. "It would not be much trouble to learn a page of that!" "It is a great trouble to learn that black page, though," said his mother. Hugh peeped closer. "Let me read the outside, mother; perhaps it explains." "Perhaps it does," said his mother, still showing only the black page. "Well, what next? as we can't make that out," said Alice, who was looking on with her arms twined round her sister Agnes. Mrs. Headley opened the next leaf, and they found it deep red. "How strange," said Hugh; "is this difficult to learn, mother?" Mrs. Headley smiled thoughtfully, and answered. "Not so hard as the other; oh, not half so hard—for us!" "And the next?" said Agnes, with a tender light in her gentle eyes. "Pure white!" exclaimed Alice; "and I believe Agnes guesses." "What next, mother?" asked Hugh; "for I suppose you do not mean to tell us the meaning yet?" "Gold!" exclaimed Minnie. "How lovely it looks! Is this difficult to learn, mother?" "Ah no!" said Mrs. Headley, "that is the easiest page of all—nothing but glory." M [ 15] [ 16] "Glory?" asked Hugh, "you have told us the meaning of the last first. Now, what is it, mother?" "What does the black remind you of, dears?" she asked, in answer to their eager look. "Night," "discomfort," "blindness," "being lost," suggested several of them. "Yes," said Mrs. Headley; "but anything else?" "Is it sin, mother?" asked Agnes, in a low tone. "Yes, my dear children, it is sin. The black is sin; 'hopeless night,' 'discomfort,' 'blindness,' 'being lost'—all you have said summed up in that one dark page—sin." "Now I guess," exclaimed John hastily, "the red is Blood. Oh, I guess now!" "The Blood of Jesus, the Son of God. Nothing else can take the black sin away. But that can; yes, the blood is easier to read than the sin, isn't it, dears?" "I don't see why," said Hugh, looking puzzled. "Do you not think it is hard to feel that we are utterly black and sinful, no good in us at all?" "Oh, mother!" "But turn over the page, and the Blood shuts out all remembrance of the sin. The Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world." "How beautiful!" said Agnes. Their mother turned to the next page, and went on. "Then, when the Blood has cleansed us, what are we?" "Whiter than snow," said Minnie reverently. "That is right, little Minnie; and I think the white reminds us of two or three things. Can you suggest them, children?" "How pure we ought to be?" asked Agnes. "Yes, and how pure He is," answered her mother. "'These are they that have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb,'" said Alice. "That was our text last Sunday." "So it was, and the end of it introduces us to our final page, and that lasts for ever." "Gold," said Minnie. "Glory," said Hugh. "Everlasting glory, all joy and light for evermore. All purchased for us by that one page which cost Him His life's blood. Now, dear children, repeat over to me the lessons of this little book, that we may all remember them together— Black—Red—White—Gold. The childrena repeated the words as their mother turned the pages, and then she added: Sin—Blood—Righteousness—Glory. Mrs. Headley then passed a book to each of them, saying in a low tone, with an earnestness which impressed her young hearers, "May all of you fly from the first, take refuge in the second, be covered by the third, and share the last." When their mother had left them Minnie stood looking long and lovingly at her little treasure, as if she would read its wordless leaves if she could. "I think this book has a whole story on each page," said Agnes thoughtfully. "I wish you could tell us one," answered Minnie, looking up wistfully. "Perhaps I will next Sunday," replied Agnes. [ 17] [ 18] [ 19] i017 CHAPTER III. THE DARK CAVERN: AN ALLEGORY. ou promised to tell us a story of the 'Wordless pages,' Agnes," said Minnie on Sunday afternoon, when the children had left their parents to a few moments' quiet, and were gathered in the drawing-room to spend the hour in which Agnes generally read to them. "I have not forgotten," answered Agnes, "but, as mother said, the first page is very hard to read, and the second page—" "Well?" said John. "You will see," answered Agnes. "Come on my lap, Minnie; you will not be afraid if I describe something very dreadful?" "I don't think so," said Minnie wondering; "but is it dreadful, Agnes?" "Don't you think that first page looks dreadful? So black and hopeless!" "Oh, yes, so it does." "Then listen: Black—Sin. I seemed to be dreaming, and in my dream I beheld a rocky country stretched out before me. On all sides were rugged stones, underneath which grew ferns and mosses, while short brushwood, growing luxuriantly, gave the place a wild, unfrequented appearance. By-and-by I heard the sound of voices approaching, and two boys came in view, who seemed to be travelling through this mountainous country. They were jumping lightly from stone to stone, or pushing their way through the bushes in the more open parts, talking gaily as they came towards me." "I have heard that there are some wonderful caverns somewhere about here, and I have determined to try and find them out," said one. "The Guide-book says they are most perilous," answered the other, opening his knapsack and looking in a book he carried there. "Oh, those old Guide-books always call everything dangerous," answered the other contemptuously, "and I am not going to be turned from my purpose by any such nonsense. Look here!" As he spoke he too opened his knapsack, and proceeded to pull out two candles triumphantly. "With these we shall do perfectly well," he added, laughing, "and shall prove the Guide-book to have been written for people with less sense." "I should like to see the caverns," said the younger boy hesitatingly, "but——" "No 'buts' for me," sneered the other, jumping up; "I am off to explore the mysteries. It is because you are afraid, I believe." I thought that the younger boy seemed not to like being called afraid, for he got up reluctantly and followed his companion somewhat slowly; not at all as he had bounded over the rocks a few minutes before. A call from the other announced that he had discovered the opening, and the colour flushed into the younger boy's face as he hastened on. In my dream I seemed permitted to follow them unseen, and saw before me the mouth of the caverns, large and wide. The boys laughed gaily, but I was not sure if I were right in imagining an uneasiness in their merriment. Y [ 20] [ 21] They eagerly traversed the outer caves, which were quite light, and chose one of the many winding turnings. "You will want your candle soon, Edred," said the younger. "So I shall, and I mean to have it too, and see all the beauties of which I have heard." They stopped to light the tapers, and I could not help wondering whether they would last long enough to guide them safely out again; but as I knew nothing of these dangerous caves, I could only follow silently, with an anxiety which increased as I perceived how headstrong Edred appeared to be. They wandered on and on, the light from their tapers illuminating the wonderful caverns, and the boys were full of interest and enjoyment, while my eyes watched the quickly-lessening candles. "You told me the Guide-book spoke of evil beasts," said Edred mockingly, "but I don't see a sign of them, and this place is like a fairy palace." "I wish we were going out towards the light," said Alwin; "we have been going inwards so long, and I am sure we shall lose our way, there are such numbers of turnings." "No fear," answered the other, "I can tell which way we are going; you have not a grain of sense. Alwin!" Alwin sighed, "I'm afraid I am stupid, but I did hear a noise just now, and I have seen several shadows that I can't account for." Did Edred look round nervously, or was it my fancy? The lights burned lower still, but the boys were too intent to notice. "I am tired," said Alwin, "let us rest." Edred glanced at him, and seemed to consider. "Well," he said, "I dare say we shall reach the end the sooner for a little rest; and I want to look right down the abyss which they say is to be found there; so let us sit down here." Alwin willingly consented, but he suddenly started from his seat again. "They say," he exclaimed, "that there is a mysterious drowsiness which creeps over people in this cavern. Can we be falling into that, think you?" "Nonsense," answered Edred, "this is only ordinary fatigue, five minutes' sleep will revive us, and we shall be as fresh as ever." Already they had set down their candles near them; and as they leaned back against the rocky sides of the cavern a strain of music, soft and dreamy, filled the air, and they slept. Long I watched, and would willingly have waked them, but that I found myself spell-bound. I was unable to speak or move. I could only look; and as I looked, the weird, dreamy music continued to lull them into deeper slumber, while their little lights burned lower and lower, and then slowly flickered out, and they were left in dense darkness. Then the music seemed to change into a new key, and my fancy made me think it sounded like the distant cries of some in dire distress. The miserable moan seemed to disturb the sleepers, for I heard an exclamation of dismay, and Alwin's voice said, in a tone of horror, "Edred! Edred! where are we? our lights are gone out!" Edred seemed to be only half awake, and he grumbled an impatient answer; but Alwin shook him with a despairing cry. "What is it?" said Edred, now thoroughly roused. "We are in darkness; we shall never find our way out. Oh, what shall we do, Edred?" "I do not know, I am sure," said Edred; "but we had better turn the way we came." "But which way?" said the other. "This, to be sure," said Edred, beginning to grope his way along. "But there were numbers of turnings, Edred," said Alwin reproachfully; "and the Guide-book——" "Stop that!" called Edred, with fierce anger, "we shall come all right; but let's have a truce to your whining." Alwin was silent after this rebuke; but the caverns were by no means silent, for now the unearthly sounds seemed to increase, and the boys clung to each other in terror. Louder and louder grew the roar, and I heard one of them exclaim. "There is something coming towards us. Oh, see! what is it? what can it be?" The anguish of those words I shall never forget. Before them along one of the many passages, a faint light seemed to shine; it came apparently from the eyes of a fierce beast who was approaching. The light was not sufficient to discern his shape, but from the lurid glare cast upwards from his eyes I could see three letters traced on his brow—S-I-N. They were incomprehensible to me, but I think the boys [ 22] [ 23] [ 24] [ 25] understood them; for, as they confronted those mysterious letters, they fell back appalled. Well indeed they might, for such a dreadful creature as bore them I never before beheld. He approached nearer and nearer, while the boys shrank back against the rocks. The fiend looked as if he would devour them; but yet, as he came near, I perceived his intention was to torture them for a while first. He came close up to them, and seemed almost to enfold them in his embrace. He whispered to them, and as his eyes cast a light on their faces, I could see the misery and despair depicted there. The fiend then gave a growl of awful meaning, and set himself down at a little distance from them, as if to take some sleep. "What did he say?" whispered Alwin mournfully. "That he would never let us go," answered Edred in a despairing tone. "Let us try to get away," again whispered Alwin; "will no one save us?" "No one is so strong as he," said Edred hoarsely. "What fools we were, Alwin!" "What shall we do? Do let us try to escape." They crept forward a few steps, but the ground was noisome mire after the passage of this creature, and the boys were covered with filth at every step they took. It was all in vain, however, for they knew not which way to go; and once, when a slight sound roused the attention of the fierce fiend, he turned as if to spring on them, uttering a deep growl. "What did he say?" again whispered Alwin. "That it is of no use our trying to escape," groaned Edred. "He says there is no return from this pit of darkness." Then I awoke from my dream. Agnes paused, and the children remained silent, till Minnie broke forth with passionate earnestness— "But oh, Agnes, there is a way out! Oh, why were they left there to perish?" "That was all I saw in that dream," said Agnes; "and when I woke these words were ringing in my ears, 'The wages of sin is death.'" "But," said John, with kindling eyes, "there is a bit more to the end of that verse, Agnes." "Not if we keep only to the first page of the 'Wordless Book,'" answered Agnes. "But we need not keep to the first page, need we?" said Minnie, looking rather sorrowful. "Oh, no, thank God! For Hugh shall finish that twenty-third verse of the sixth of Romans which begins so sadly." So Hugh repeated: "'The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.'" CHAPTER IV. RESCUED: AN ALLEGORY. nother Sunday came round, and the brothers and sisters again claimed Agnes's promise to continue the story of the "Wordless" pages. They had several times in the week asked if she could do so then; but she had always answered. "Wait till Sunday." "Now Agnes," said John, "let us have the rest of that dream." "I did describe to you all that dream," answered Agnes. "What I have to tell you to-day is another dream—a new page as it were; not black, but red." [ 26] [ 27] A "I thought it was to be a continuation," said Alice. "Yes, it is; but you will not let me begin." "Oh! yes we will," said Minnie. "Now then. Agnes." Red—Blood. Again I dreamed, and found myself in the same cavern where I had before been such a terrified spectator. Should I be able to see the dismal end of those miserable boys? I asked myself. At first the darkness seemed impenetrable, and as there was no sound to break the stillness, I feared that already the fierce beast had devoured those whom he had captured. But hark! was not that a sobbing sigh from some one? Again it met my ear, and I thought I could distinguish Alwin's voice, saying in a low, pleading tone: "Edred, I am sure I read something in the Guide-book about the King's Son, who lives in that Palace we saw over the Hills there, being willing to rescue travellers, if they were in distress." "Hush!" said Edred, in a frightened voice, "the fiend will hear you, and will spring upon us if he thinks we are meditating escape—however futile it may be," he added bitterly. "He is half asleep over there," answered Alwin in a low tone; "see how he rests, and his eyes are shut. Oh, Edred, our position is so dreadful that it is worth a desperate effort to get free." "No effort is of any avail," said Edred hopelessly. "If you only look at yonder monster, with his awful name shining on his forehead, you will know that he will never let us enter the King's Palace; he told us just now that his wages are death, and that we shall not escape." "I know," said Alwin, "but all the same I have read enough of the Guide-book to believe there is some way of deliverance; do, Edred, try to recall what it was." "I never read it," said Edred, "and to consult it now, when we are in this dire distress, seems like mocking the King who ordered it to be written." He sighed heavily, and as I grew accustomed to the darkness, I could faintly perceive the two boys crouching down in a corner, watching the evil beast, never taking their wearied eyes from him for a moment. Alwin seemed unable to let go his last hope, and began again imploringly, "Edred, I know it said if people got into these caverns they were to call to the King; do let us try." "Call and wake the monster?" asked Edred, mockingly. "Besides, who could hear?" "I shall try," whispered Alwin, "for I feel I shall soon have no strength left." Edred made a gesture as if to reply, when the enemy roused himself suddenly, and before either of them had time to speak or move, he had sprung across the cavern. I saw the two boys disappear beneath his awful form. A fearful cry rent the air, a cry of agony, but a cry too which seemed to expect an answer. The fiend grappled with them both, and gave them blow after blow. Still spell-bound I watched, feeling myself turned to stone with horror. But what did I hear? Surely above the cruel strokes which resounded on the bodies of these captive boys, surely above their cries for help, and moans of anguish, I heard another sound—a sound of rescue, coming nearer and nearer? Did the evil creature hear it too? Did he not strike the faster, that there might be no deliverance; that the deliverance might be too late? A strange light approached along one of the passages, and all at once One entered the cavern, and dealt a swift blow at the fiend, which made him relax his hold, only to tighten it more painfully. "I have come to deliver those that are appointed to die," said a voice of heavenly sweetness; but the fiend turned on Him with blows, fiercer and deadlier than those he had given the boys, and there ensued such a terrible combat that my very heart failed me. By-and-by I found that the fiend seemed to grow weaker and weaker, and the Deliverer, though wounded and bleeding, was a Conqueror. The evil creature at last sank down in the mire, motionless, his grasp loosened from the poor boys, and the Conqueror came up to them and raised them from the ground. Alwin had just sufficient strength left to clasp the feet of his Deliverer with a cry of love, but Edred neither spoke nor moved. "Edred," said the tender voice, "I have fought, and he who held thee is conquered; wilt thou come with Me?" Edred groaned. [ 28] [ 29] [ 30] [ 31] "Thou wilt not stay here, Edred?" again said the loving tone reproachfully. "I am not worthy," moaned Edred, "I disobeyed——" "Nay, nay, thou art not worthy; but I have loved thee, and have done it all for thee. Edred, wilt thou refuse?" Then I heard a broken cry of grateful acquiescence, and the two lost, hopeless boys were clasped to that bosom of love. And Alwin whispered, "Thou hast been wounded in the sore fight, for I can feel Thy blood flowing upon me!" "That was the price at which I rescued thee," answered the Deliverer, "and thou shalt find when we come into the Light that the Blood of the King's Son worketh marvels for thee." "Art Thou the King's Son?" asked Edred as they moved forward from this cavern of Death. "Didst thou not know?" answered his Deliverer with a radiant smile, "no one else is 'Mighty to save.'" When Agnes ceased the relation of her dream, she turned over the leaves of her Bible which lay on her knee, her brothers and sisters waiting to see if there were any more of the story. At last she looked up, and said earnestly, "You all like allegories, but they can only teach one side of a truth at once, and the Lord Jesus has done so much more than anything I can say for us. I have not told you half that Red page means, but you can seek it out for yourselves, dears. Think of all the love which brought Him down to redeem us, and what it cost Him, and let the Red page of the 'Wordless Book' impress this upon your hearts, never to be forgotten, 'Without shedding of blood is no remission;' 'God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners. Christ died for us.'" CHAPTER V. NEW ROBES: AN ALLEGORY. ave you another dream to tell us?" asked Minnie on the following Sunday. "It is the end of the same dream, but it has a different page in the 'Wordless Book' as its suggestion," answered Agnes. "Yes, the White page," said John. White—Righteousness. Then the boys passed out towards the Light, leaning on Him who had delivered them. I followed silently, still allowed to watch and listen. "Dost Thou say that Thou wilt present us to the King?" asked Alwin hesitatingly. Their Deliverer assented; for Edred immediately answered, "We are not fit to appear before Him! Thy power has indeed saved us from the destruction we merited; but we are so soiled and filthy from contact with the mire in this awful [ 32] [ 33] H [ 34] Cavern, that we could not appear before any one, least of all before the Great King." He spoke eagerly and half proudly. "Dost thou not remember what I told thee? That My Blood, which has been shed for thee, with which thou hast been covered, will work—nay, has already worked, marvels; and when the Light shines upon thee, thou wilt see. Fear nothing, only believe what I tell thee." They were silent after this, and were quickly approaching the end of the darkness. Then the boys could look upon their Deliverer, and could see the terrible wounds that He had sustained in His conflict with the foul fiend. And when they looked they wept—wept for sorrow that He should so have suffered for them—wept for joy that they were safe from the dreadful destruction. They thought not of themselves; but when I could unfasten my eyes from the lovely face of the Deliverer, I was amazed to find that the boys were no longer arrayed in their former clothes, for in that mysterious passage from Darkness to Light all these had been changed, and they were now clad in a spotless robe of pure white. By-and-by they perceived it themselves, or rather their Guide pointed it out to them. "See," He said tenderly, "what My deliverance has done for you; now you can meet the King without fear. Covered by this robe, you will be accepted even in His eyes, because when He sees it He will remember that I have fought for you and prevailed; and He will count My merits yours." He led them now swiftly, it seemed to me, towards a spot which He told them would be the Meeting-place, but for the first time I was unable to follow them. A thin cloud seemed to obscure my vision for a while. When I saw the boys again their Guide had left them, and they were walking along the road towards the Palace of the King, which lay at the end of the journey. They were busily engaged in perusing the Guide-book, which Edred had before so despised; but now his face bent over it with a look which was both inquiring and trustful. "What does it mean, Alwin, when it says, 'Needeth not save to wash his feet?'" "Does it not mean that we, who have been cleansed from all that filth by the wonderful efficacy of our Deliverer's Blood, still may get defilements in our path, and that these will need constant washing away?" "I suppose it does," said Edred hesitatingly and looking round; "but where——?" "Our Deliverer told us—do you not remember it?—that by our road we should find a cleansing stream, dyed by His Blood, to which we must needs constantly repair." "He did, but I had well-nigh forgotten it; but see, Alwin, the end of the journey is not so very far off; just beyond those Hills, where the radiance is; there will be nothing to defile us there." Alwin looked towards the Hills in silence, with a rapt face, on which the glory seemed reflected. Then he added suddenly, "Our Deliverer said that He might fetch us Himself, instead of our travelling so far; that would be better still, Edred." "Indeed it would," answered Edred earnestly. "I hope He will." Then I awoke from my dream. "And this text has been running in my head while I have been pondering over my dream," added Agnes, "'The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin'—and—'He hath made us accepted in the Beloved.'" [ 34] [ 35] [ 36] [ 37] CHAPTER VI. AT LAST: AN ALLEGORY. am sorry we have come to the Gold page," said Alice, with a sigh, folding her hands together as she seated herself in the bow-window seat on the Sunday before their parents were to sail for America. "Sorry!" echoed Minnie, "why, I am very glad indeed!" "Because it is the last, I mean," answered Alice; "we shall miss our Sunday afternoon story dreadfully." "I propose that Agnes tells us one every Sunday," said John. Agnes shook her head, but answered, half-smiling. "Sometimes, perhaps, I may, but you know they cannot be all allegories." "Oh, no!" said Hugh; "but let us begin our last page now." Gold—Glory. Once again I dreamed, and once again I saw the boys in whom I took so much interest. This time they were nearing the Hills, above which the radiance shone. The country was still of the same mountainous description, and I thought I could see beneath the steep ascent before me a River winding in and out. The golden light seemed to shine down on some parts of the River, but generally it was dark and sombre. Just now the boys were standing near it, and Edred was gazing down into its depths. "It is rather dreadful, Alwin," he exclaimed, turning round and glancing in his companion's face, "to think of having to cross this before we reach the Palace of the King." "Yes," answered Alwin, "and when we look down into it, instead of looking up at the Glory, we do get depressed. But, you know, Edred, our Deliverer has promised to bear us safely through." "Of course He has. He would not leave those whom He has delivered at such a price to perish in the final water, Alwin. No; I will not look down into the River any longer, but rather, as you say, to the Glory beyond. But I wish I knew more of its delights." "The Guide-book tells us a great deal about it; and often since we have neared this River, I have had to turn to the description of it to cheer my fainting courage." "I wish I were acquainted with the Guide-book as you are, Alwin; but I do love it much more than I used—I love it dearly! What does it say?" "Shall I read it to you?" "Yes, do," answered Edred, throwing himself down on the grass by the side of the water, and settling himself into an attitude of expectancy. Alwin once more drew from his knapsack the Guide-book, which had seen much service since my eyes had first fallen upon it, and with one glance upwards at the radiance over the Hills, he turned towards his companion and read in a thrilling tone from the book in his hand, words which seemed familiar to me, though I could not tell in my dream where I heard them: "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. Then came unto me one of the seven angels..., and he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God: and her light was like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal. And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it: for the glory of God I [ 38] [ 39] [ 40] did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it: and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it. And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there. And they shall bring the glory and the honour of the nations into it. And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life. And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and His servants shall serve Him: and they shall see His face; and His name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever." Alwin ceased reading, and Edred, whose eyes, from being turned on his friend's face at first, had been latterly directed upwards, now rose from the ground with a new light shining in them. "Alwin," he said solemnly, "I always have dreaded this River, but I do not any longer. I have long known that I should soon have to pass through it. Ever since we were in that Cavern of Death I have known it, but now I fear it no longer. The words of the Guide-book have taken away my terror. See, I shall soon be where the light will never fade away." As he spoke a touch of golden light which had for a moment illumined the dark river passed away from it, and the gloom grew deeper. But Edred thought not of it, his eyes were fixed on the Light beyond. "You are not going to leave me alone?" said the younger boy yearningly. "I must; I have been sent for by the King. He told me some little time ago that it would be soon." "Oh, Edred!" murmured Alwin. "He will bear you through too," answered Edred kindly. "I could not have believed that His words would have cheered me so. I am quite joyful in going now. I only long to cross." As he spoke he stepped into the River, which looked to me so dark and drear. Now a mist brooded over the River, between those standing on the bank and the Shore beyond, and so Edred was lost to my sight. Alwin stood long looking after him, with tear-dimmed eyes; but by-and-by he turned once more to the Book in his hand, and as he read it I noticed that the sorrow passed away from his face. "A little while," he murmured to himself, and turned to go on his journey. But I saw that his road lay close to the River; and, or ever I was aware, I found he too had entered the water, and was actually crossing over to the bright Land. As the waters got deeper and deeper, his face only grew the more radiant, and when the mist almost hid him from my view, I heard a triumphant voice exclaiming, "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift." Minnie's little head was laid on Agnes's lap during the narration of this dream, and she now raised it with an earnest look. "And that is all?" she said, sighing. "All, except that there is no end to the Glory," replied Agnes. "No," said John, "I often think that is the best of Heaven—there will be no 'leaving-off' there." "That is just it," answered Agnes, "and the summing-up of all these Wordless pages—of Sin—Blood—Righteousness —Glory—seems to me to be expressed in these words, 'That ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing.... Who hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.'" CHAPTER VII. [ 41] [ 42] [ 43] LAST DAYS. sn't it awfully cold for you and mother to travel at this time of year, father?" asked Hugh as he buttoned up his warm great coat to set out for school for the last time before the Christmas holidays. "Very; but you see, my boy, urgent business calls me; and urgent necessity calls your mother." "Oh, yes! but I wish it were summer. Are you really going on Saturday?" "Yes, God willing." Hugh went into the hall, where he found his brother brushing his hat. "I wonder why father always adds 'God willing,'" he said in an undertone, "so few people do. Do you care about it, John?" "Well, I can't say that I've come to doing it myself," answered John candidly; "but I do feel this, Hugh, that when they're out on the Atlantic I'd rather know they had felt it was 'God willing,' than that they should have acted on their own responsibility." Hugh whistled. "You ain't getting preachified I suppose, are you, John?" "No; but, all the same, I know when I think a thing's right." "So do I; leastways I know when I'm in the right, and that's generally!" "Or you think so." "Of course; comes to the same thing." Hugh had a pleasantly good opinion of himself, which often roused the ridicule and annoyance of his brother and sisters; and so before John was aware he found himself caught in an argument which was beginning to rasp his temper. "Well, I'm off," he said, abruptly turning on his heel, thinking within himself that if his promise to Agnes was to be kept during his parents' absence it would be well to begin at once. "Beaten off the field?" asked Hugh, laughing, while he turned round to give his mother a passing kiss. "Teasing again, my boy," she said gently. "Only on the surface, mother," he answered lightly. "Do you not think that the surface of a mirror sometimes gets scratched, and cannot reflect back the same perfect image it should?" Hugh shook his head. "Mother, I shall be late," he said, turning the handle of the door, and wishing to escape. She smiled archly. "Next week there will be no mother to run away from, so listen, Hugh. Can't you invent some remedy for that tongue of yours?" "I wasn't doing a bit of harm, mother, then." "But if you could you would be 'able to bridle the whole body.' Think of that, Hugh! Can you not make up your mind to try?" "All right, mother, I'll see about it." "Not in your own strength though, dear." He nodded, and seeing that he was let off, he darted through the door and was gone in a moment. Mrs. Headley turned back with a momentary look of pain, then, as if those words were whispered in her ear she heard: "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." And at that word she went into the dining-room with a smile on her face, and seated herself at her preparations with peace in her heart. "What are you going to do for poor people this Christmas, mother?" said Minnie, throwing her arms round her mother's neck in her warm-hearted little way. Mrs. Headley looked up from the close embrace with a smile, and answered, "We shall not be able to do very much this year, Minnie; but I have not forgotten." "I did not think you had, only I do like to know." I [ 44] [ 45]