Left at Home Part 8

"Well," said Arthur, "partly, I think, it meant that I wish I had something to do."

His aunt thought that boys were very curious things, and wondered what they could do. She felt almost inclined to echo Arthur's sigh; but she thought a moment, and then she said--

"Would you like to have a skein of wool to wind into a ball?"

"Yes," said Arthur. He was quite glad to have even this to do. At home it was not the occupation he generally chose; but now, as he stood with the blue wool encircling two chairs, steadily unwinding it into a ball, it seemed quite pleasant work. Mrs. Estcourt had quite made up her mind, that the skein would be spoiled, and so when her little nephew brought it to her, wound and unbroken, it was an agreeable surprise, and she began to have a higher opinion of boys in general.

The day seemed to wear very slowly on, and with the waning light Arthur's heart seemed to sink very low. So quiet was he, that his aunt could hardly understand him, and any one who had seen the boisterous, lively boy at Ashton Grange, would hardly have known him as the same one who was sitting so quietly before the drawing-room fire in the lamplight. He was sitting there in dreamy fas.h.i.+on with a very sad, heavy heart, when his aunt asked him what was his bedtime. A fortnight ago, if this question had been put to Arthur, he would not have given the same answer that he did now. Then he had considered it one of the greatest hards.h.i.+ps of his life, that a quarter before nine was the time when he was expected to disappear. But now he said, "Oh, I don't much mind, aunt; I think I should like to go now!" for the weary, lonely feeling was making his heart so sick, that he wanted to be all alone for a while.

"Well, good night, darling," said his aunt, and she put her arms very tenderly round his neck; for she knew that his poor little heart must be aching, and that his thoughts must be seeing things that were very far away.

She kissed him so lovingly that it was just too much for him. The tears came into his eyes, and Arthur went sobbing up the stairs, not noticing that he was holding the candle on one side, and that his way could be traced along the carpet by large white spots. Somebody else noticed it the next morning; and the housemaid thought that her mistress had done a very foolish thing when she brought that young gentleman into her orderly household.

Arthur's little room looked very snug as he opened the door and went in.

The firelight was dancing on the white curtains and on all the pretty things around. But Arthur did not see any of it for the blinding tears that were in his eyes, and fast falling down. His whole heart was longing with one deep aching to be back again at home, and all the more that he had been trying all the evening to keep back the tears. It seemed as if he would cry his heart out, as he lay on the rug, sobbing so bitterly all alone. "Oh, mamma, mamma," he sobbed "come, come!" And this was all he said, this was what he repeated again and again; and it was very dreary that there was no answer--it seemed as if no one heard him.

But One could hear him. Jesus wept when He was on the earth, and He does not despise a child's first bitter grief. He knows what trouble is, and He knows just how much each particular trouble is to each one; for He Himself has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.

By and by Arthur remembered the text, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He knew that when the Lord Jesus Christ said "all" that He meant all, so he lifted up his heart to the One who alone can read hearts; and this is what he said, with the sobs coming thick and fast--what he prayed; for real prayer is a heart speaking to G.o.d, and calling to Him in need--

"Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, I do come to Thee! for I remember the text that says 'Come,' and I don't know what to say except that Thou knowest, Lord Jesus, how lonely and miserable I am. My mother is far away, and papa too, and I do so want to feel her arms round me now; but I can't, oh, I can't!

Lord Jesus, if thou wert here on the earth, and in this room, I would come to Thee, and sit at Thy feet; and Thou wouldst put Thine arms round me.

Oh, do it now, Lord Jesus! for I feel as if I must have somebody taking care of me. The Bible says that Thou healest the broken-hearted, and I feel broken-hearted to-night, Lord Jesus, so heal me. Lord Jesus Christ, I belong to Thee, I am Thy lamb; gather me in Thine arms, and carry me in Thy bosom."

It was in this way that little, lonely Arthur Vivyan poured his heart out before the Lord. He went and told Him exactly what was in it, and then he lay at His feet; and he felt as he had not felt before, what it was to be in His keeping, and to hear His voice saying, "Thou art mine," to feel the everlasting arms enfolding him, and to know that One so strong, and kind, and true, loved him with an everlasting love. The Lord Jesus Christ was a real person to Arthur Vivyan. He had known Him before as his Saviour; he was knowing Him now as the lover of his soul.

And that night, as he lay in his white-curtained bed, he felt the sweet rest that the Lord gives when "He giveth His beloved sleep."

The stars shone in their melting blue depths, and their trembling light fell on two who loved each other, and who were both loved by the blessed G.o.d, who neither slumbers nor sleeps; and though such time and s.p.a.ce were separating them, they were both in His hand who "measures the water in the hollow of His hand."

Is it not a happy thing to belong to the Lord Jesus Christ?

CHAPTER VIII.

EDGAR NORTH; OR, A HEART WITHOUT A RESTING-PLACE.

About two weeks after his arrival in his new home, when Arthur came down one morning to breakfast, something in his aunt's face made him think of pleasant things; so that his "Good morning, auntie," seemed rather like a question.

"I think you had better have breakfast," said Mrs. Estcourt, smiling, but holding something in her hand towards him, at the same time.

"A letter!" Arthur exclaimed, or rather shouted, as he seized the envelope. "A letter for me! It could be only from one person. But, oh, surely they are not in India yet! Mamma said they would be weeks and weeks going."

"They must have pa.s.sed some vessel returning to England. You see what a mother you have, to write to you the very first opportunity."

"I should think I knew that, auntie. I don't believe there ever was, or will be, any one like my mother in the whole world." Then he began to read his mother's letter:

"MY OWN CHILD,--For this is the sweetest name I can call you. You are my own, my Arthur, my darling little child--just as much mine now, as when we used to sit together by the fireside in the old home, and your head was on my lap, and my arms were around you. And although miles and miles of deep blue sea are lying between us, and the stars that look down on you in your peaceful English home may see me here on the broad, wide ocean, you are here safe in my heart, just the same as ever, and my watchful love, that cannot take care of you as I once did, pours itself out in prayers to the G.o.d who loves us both; for He is my Father and yours, Arthur. We are both in His hands. He will take care of us now, as we walk on this changing world, and He will take care of us for ever, in that land where there are no partings, or sighs, or tears--where the blessed G.o.d will joy to bless us for ever.

"And now I must tell you something about ourselves, about your father and me. For a little while after we started we had very rough weather; and as the steamer tossed up and down, and rolled with great heaving swells on the waves, I was glad that my little boy had a bed to lie on, that did not heave from side to side. I was glad that the sounds he heard, were the sweet summer winds rustling, and the birds that sang in the trees, instead of the creaking and straining noises that I now hear, and that he was safe, and comfortable, and well; instead of sighing out his poor little heart with trouble; for sea-sickness is a reality, my little Arthur, as you would soon find out, if, like me, you had spent some days on the sea, when the winds had made the waves rough.

"Now the water is calm, and all around us it lies blue and bright, and the sun makes pleasant sparkles on it, which I look at now and again, as I sit here on the deck; writing the letter that you will read, and think of me on my way to the land where you were born.

"I only came on deck yesterday; for, as I told you, the weather was so rough, and I was so ill, that I had to stay all the time in my cabin. Your father was as well as ever, indeed he said that he was never better in his life; and as I lay there for several weary days, I could hear his voice, now and then talking with the other pa.s.sengers, and sometimes he would come in and tell me where we were, and what was the state of the weather, until at length he was able to tell me that the wind was going down, and that probably we should have some bright, calm weather; and I was very glad to think that I should be able to leave my dark cabin, and sit out where the sun was s.h.i.+ning, and where the sea was stretching beneath it, until it met the spreading sky far away.

"There are a great many ladies and gentlemen on board; some of them, as we are doing, leaving their dear little children in English homes, and hoping to see them again some day. Some of them have one or two of their youngest children with them, and my only one is far away from me; but I know that G.o.d is taking care of my darling child, and from my heart I can say, 'Thy will be done;' for though I would have chosen another way, He who chose for me, loves me so tenderly, that I can sit at His feet and submit myself to what He has said.

"And that is what I want you to do, my own dear child; that is what I pray for you when my heart rises up to my Father's heart and says, 'G.o.d bless my child.' I want you to remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is your Lord; for you told me that you trust in Him, and that He is your hope, and so I want you to remember that if you submit yourself to Him, you are owning Him as Lord, whom the G.o.d of all the world has made Lord and Christ; and so if you are meek and gentle, when something wrong tempts you to be pa.s.sionate and proud, if you are kind and helpful to others, when selfishness tempts you to please yourself, you are acknowledging this blessed Master as yours. Is not this a happy thought, my Arthur? and do you not like to give pleasure to the One who loves you so, and who did for you what can never be told?

"And now, good-bye, my child. I need not give you your father's love, for you have it already, and he joins his prayers for you with mine every day, that our G.o.d will bless you and keep you; and He will; for 'He that keepeth thee will not slumber.'

"YOUR LOVING MOTHER."

Great big tears were running down Arthur's face as he finished the letter; but there was a bright look there too, as he folded it up with an air of great content. "Auntie," he said, "would there be any use in my writing a letter now? When would she get it?"

"I think it would be a very good plan if you write now; your mother would find the letter awaiting her in Madras. It would not take nearly so long going as they do."

"Poor mamma," said Arthur, "I don't believe the sea is good for her, after all; you see how ill she is."

"Oh, yes! but she would very soon get over that; and then, depend upon it, the voyage will be very good indeed for her. Perhaps," said Mrs. Estcourt softly, "that is the way with people in other things and ways."

"I know what you mean, aunt," said Arthur suddenly, "and I expect you are right."

But his aunt heaved a very deep sigh, and said no more.

Mrs. Estcourt was very glad to see her little nephew busily occupied, for that day at least. For several days she had been trying to bring herself to the point of telling Arthur, that she thought he had better attend Mr.

Carey's school; and day after day she had put it off, thinking it would make him unhappy.

Arthur's letter to his mother could not be called a very well written one; there were several mistakes in the spelling, and here and there, a great blot could tell that a good deal of his heart had gone into it; but whatever it was, it was a loving little letter.

"MY OWN DEAR MOTHER,--Aunt says there is time for a letter to get to you; so this is an answer to the one you sent me. I think it was a most beautiful letter; and it was very odd that it made me cry.

"I like Aunt Daisy very much; I like her much better than any other lady in the world--except you, of course.

"Myrtle Hill is much grander than the Grange. I do try to be careful about the things, dear Mamma. Oh, mother! I do want to see you so very much sometimes. I could never tell you how much; only I do not want you to think I am unhappy.

"Mamma, I thought of a text the second evening I came here that made me not so unhappy. I did not think so much of how kind and good the Lord Jesus was until I came here. Tell papa I give him my love. I have made a lot of mistakes, and I could not help these blots.

"Good-bye, my own dear mother.

"Ever your loving

"ARTHUR."