The Maidens' Lodge Part 20

Ah, what did she know? For Gatty lived in a dreary time, when religion was at one of its lowest ebb-tides, and had sunk almost to the level of heathen morality. If Gatty had been required to give definitions of the greatest words in the language, and had really done it from the bottom of her heart, according to her own honest belief, the list would have run much in this way:--

"G.o.d.--The Great First Cause of all things, who has nothing to do with anything now, but will, at some remote period, punish murderers, thieves, and very wicked people.

"Christ.--A supernaturally good man, who was crucified seventeen hundred years ago.

"Heaven.--A delightful place, where everybody is happy, to which all respectable people will go, when they can't help it any longer.

"Bible.--A good book read in church; intensely dry, as good books always are no concern of mine.

"Salvation, peace, holiness, and the like.--Words in the Prayer-Book.

"Faith, hope, love, etcetera.--Duties, which of course we all perform, and therefore don't need to trouble ourselves about them.

"Prayer.--An incantation, to be repeated morning and evening, if you wish to avert ill luck during the day."

These were Gatty's views--if she could be said to have any. How different from those of Mrs Dorothy Jennings! To her, G.o.d was the Creator, from whom, and by whom, and to whom, were all things: the Fountain of Mercy, who had so loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son for its salvation: the Father who, having loved her before the world was, cared for everything, however insignificant, which concerned her welfare. Christ was the Friend who sticketh closer than a brother--the Lamb who had been slain for her, the High Priest who was touched with every feeling of human infirmity. Heaven was the home which her Father had prepared for her. The Bible was the means whereby her Father talked with her; and prayer the means whereby she talked with Him. Salvation was her condition; holiness, her aim; faith, love, peace, the very breath she drew. While, in Gatty's eyes, all this was unknown and unreal, to Mrs Dorothy it was the most real thing in all the world.

Gatty answered her friend's query by a puzzled look.

"It comes in church," she said. "He is in the Creed, and at the end of the prayers. I don't know!"

"Child," replied Mrs Dorothy, "you don't know Him. And, Mrs Gatty, my dear, you must know Him, if you are ever to be a happy woman. O poor child, poor child! To think that the Man who loved you and gave His life for you is no more to you than one of a row of figures, a name set to the end of a prayer!"

Gatty was taken by surprise. She looked up with both unwonted emotion and astonishment in her eyes.

"Mrs Dolly," she said, with feeling, "I cannot tell, but I think 'twould be pleasant to feel like you. It sounds all real, as if you had a live friend."

"That is just what it is, my dear Mrs Gatty. A Friend that loves me enough to count the very hairs of my head,--to whom nothing is a little matter that can concern me. And He is just as ready to be your Friend too."

"What makes you think so, Mrs Dolly?"

"My dear, He died on purpose to save you."

"The world, not me!" said Gatty.

"If there had been no world but you," was the answer, "He would have thought it worth while."

Gatty's answer was not immediate. When it came, it was--

"What does He want me to do?"

"He wants you to give Him your heart," said the old lady. "Do that first, and you will very soon find out how to give Him your hands and your head."

"And will He keep away my Lord Polesworth?" asked the girl, earnestly.

"He will keep away everything that can hurt you. Not, maybe, everything you don't like. Sometimes 'tis just the contrary. The sweet cake that you like might harm you, and the physic you hate might heal you. If so, He will give you the physic. But, child, if you are His own, He will put the cup into your had with a smite which will make it easy to take."

"I should like that," said Gatty, wistfully. "But could it be right to wed with my Lord Polesworth, when I could not love nor honour him in my heart at all?"

"It can never be right to lie. Ask G.o.d to make you a way of escape, if so it be."

"What way?"

"Leave that to Him."

Mrs Dorothy's little clock struck four.

"I think, if you please, Mrs Gatty," said Phoebe's. .h.i.therto silent voice, "that Madam will be looking for us."

"Yes, I guess she will," answered Gatty, rising, and courtesying. "I thank you, Mrs Dolly. You have given me a ray of hope--if 'twill not die away."

Mrs Dorothy drew the girl to her, and kissed her cheek.

"Christ cannot die, my child," she replied. "And Christ's love is deathless as Himself. 'Death hath no more dominion over Him.' And He saith to His own, 'Because I live, ye shall live also.'"

"It should be a better life than this," said Gatty, with a sigh.

"This is not the Christian's life, my dear. 'His life is hid with Christ in G.o.d.' 'Tis not left in his own hands to keep; he would soon lose it, if it were. Farewell, dear child; and may the Lord keep thee!"

Gatty looked up suddenly. "Tell me what to say to Him."

Mrs Dorothy scarcely hesitated a moment.

"'Teach me to do Thy will,'" she answered. "That holds everything. You cannot do His will unless you are one of His redeemed. He must save you, and hold you up, and guide you to glory, if you do His will--not because you do it, for the salvation cometh first; but without the one, there cannot be the other. And he that doeth the will of G.o.d soon learns to love it, better than any mortal thing. 'Oh, how love I Thy law!' saith David. 'There is nothing on earth that I desire in comparison of Thee.'"

She kissed both the girls again, and they went away.

CHAPTER SIX.

TRAPS LAID FOR RHODA.

"La souveraine habilite consiste a bien connoitre le prix des choses."

_La Rochefoucauld_.

There was an earnest, wistful, far-away look in Gatty's eyes, as though some treasure-house had been opened to her, the existence of which she had never previously suspected; but neither she nor Phoebe said a word to each other as they crossed the Park, and went up the wide white steps of the Abbey.

"Where on earth have you been, you gadabouts?" came in Rhoda's voice from the interior of the hall. "Oh, but I've such a jolly piece of news for you! Molly and me heard it from Madam. Guess what it is."

Rhoda's grammar was more free and easy than correct at all times; and Phoebe could not help thinking that in that respect, as in others, she had perceptibly deteriorated by contact with Molly.

"I don't care to hear it, thank you," said Gatty, rather hastily, walking straight upstairs.

"Oh, don't you, Mrs Prim?" demanded Rhoda. "Well, it doesn't concern you much. Now, Phoebe, guess!"

Phoebe felt very little in tune for the sort of amus.e.m.e.nt usually patronised by Rhoda. But she set herself to gratify that rather exacting young lady.