The Letter of Credit. Warner Susan
man's eyes fell from her to Rotha; the two faces were very near each other; and for the first time Rotha's defiance gave place to a little bit of liking. She had not seen her mother's look; but she had watched Mr. Digby's eyes as they answered it, in their ear nest, intent expression, and then as the eyes came to her she felt the warm ray of kindness and sympathy which beamed from them. A moment it was, but Rotha was Mr. Digby's opponent no more from that time.
"You seem to be having a pleasant rest," he remarked in his usual calm way. "I hope you have got all your work done for me?"
"I never do rest till my work is done," said the girl.
"That is a very good plan. Will you prove the fact on the present occasion?"
Rotha unwillingly left her place.
"Mr. Digby, what sort of a chair is this?"
"A spring chair."
"It is a very good thing."
"I am glad it meets your approbation."
"It meets mother's too. Do you see how she rests in it?"
"Does she rest?" asked the young man, rather of Mrs. Carpenter than of her daughter.
"All the body can," she answered with a faint smile.
"'Underneath are the everlasting arms' – " he said.
But that word caused a sudden gush of tears on the sick woman's part; she hid her face; and Mr. Digby called off Rotha at once to her recitations. He kept her very busy at them for some time; Latin and arithmetic and grammar came under review; and then he proceeded to put a pen in her hand and give her a dictation lesson; criticised her handwriting, set her a copy, and fully engrossed Rotha's eyes and mind.
CHAPTER VI.
A LEGACY
"Mother," said Rotha, when their visiter was again gone and her copy was done and she had returned to her mother's side, "I never knew before to- day that Mr. Digby has handsome eyes."
"How did you find it out to-day?"
"I had a good look at them, and they looked at me so."
"How?"
"I don't know – as if they meant a good deal, and good. Don't you think he has handsome eyes, mother?"
"I always knew that. He is a very fine-looking man altogether."
"Is he? I suppose he is. Only he likes to have his own way."
"I wonder if somebody else doesn't, that I know?"
"That's the very thing, mother. If I didn't, I suppose I shouldn't care. But when Mr. Digby says anything, he always looks as if he expected it to be just so, and everybody to mind him."
Mrs. Carpenter could not help laughing, albeit she was by no means in a laughing mood. Her laugh was followed by a sigh.
"What makes you draw a long breath, mother?"
"I wish you could govern that temper of yours, my child."
"Why, mother? Haven't I as good a right to my own way as Mr. Digby, or anybody?"
"Few people can have their own way in the world; and a woman least of all."
"Why?"
"She generally has to mind the will of somebody else."
"But that isn't fair."
"It is the way things are."
"Mother, it may be the way with some people; but I have got nobody to mind?"
"Your mother? – "
"O yes; but that isn't it. You are a woman. There is no man I must mind."
"If you ever grow up and marry somebody, there will be."
"I would never marry anybody I had to mind!" said the girl energetically.
"You are the very person that would do it," said the mother; putting her hand fondly upon Rotha's cheek. "My little daughter! – If only I knew that you were willing to obey the Lord Jesus Christ, I could be easy about you."
"And aren't, you easy about me?"
"No," said the mother sadly.
"Would you be easy if I was a Christian?"
Mrs. Carpenter nodded. There was a pause.
"I would like to be a Christian, mother, if it would make you feel easy; but – somehow – I don't want to."
"I know that."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you hold off. If you were once willing, the thing would be done."
There was silence again; till Rotha suddenly broke it by asking, "Mother, can I help my will?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why! If I don't want to be a Christian, can I make myself want to?"
"That seems to me a foolish question," said her mother. "Suppose you do not want to do something I tell you to do; need that hinder your obeying?"
"But this is different."
"I do not see how it is different."
"What is being a Christian, then?"
"You know, Rotha."
"But tell me, mother. I don't know if I know."
"You ought to know. A Christian is one who loves and serves the Lord Jesus."
"And then he can't do what he has a mind to," said Rotha.
"Yes, he can; unless it is something wrong."
"Well, he can't do what he has a mind to; he must always be asking."
"That is not hard, if one loves the Lord."
"But I don't love him, mother."
"No," said Mrs. Carpenter sadly.
"Can I make myself love him?"
"No; but that is foolish talk."
"I don't see why it is foolish, I am sure. I wish I did love him, if it would make you feel better."
"I should not have a care left!" said Mrs. Carpenter, with a sort of breath of longing.
"Why not, mother?"
"Get the Bible and read the 121st psalm, – slowly."
Rotha obeyed.
"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth'" —
"There! if you were one of the Lord's dear children, you would say that; that would be true of you. Now go on, and see what the Lord says to it; see what would follow."
Rotha went on.
"'He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.' —Israel, mother."
"The true Israel are the Lord's true children, of any nation."
"Are they? Well – 'The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand; the sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in, from this time forth, and even for evermore. Praise ye the Lord.'"
"Would anybody be well kept that was kept so?" Mrs. Carpenter broke forth, with the tears running down her face. "O my little Rotha! my little daughter! if I knew you in that care, how blessed I should be!"
The tears streamed, and Mrs. Carpenter in vain tried to wipe them dry.
Rotha looked on, troubled, and a little conscience-stricken.
"Mother," she began, "don't he take care of anybody except Christians?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Carpenter; "he takes care of the children of Christians; and so I have faith that he will take care of you; but it is not just so. If you will not come to him now, he may take painful ways to bring you; if you will not trust