All's Well

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

  A NEW FRIEND FOR CHRISTABEL.

  "O Aunt Tabitha! have you and Uncle Thomas been to Canterbury? and didyou really see dear Aunt Alice? How looks she? and what said she? I dowant to know, and Father never seems to see, somehow, the things I want.Of course I would not--he's the best father that ever was, AuntTabitha, and the dearest belike; but somehow, he seems not to _see_things--"

  "He's a man," said Aunt Tabitha, cutting short Christabel's labouredexplanation; "and men never do see, child. They haven't a bit ofgumption, and none so much wit. Ay, we've been; but we were late, andhadn't time to tarry. Well, she looks white belike, as folks alway dowhen they be shut up from the air; but she seems in good health, and ingood cheer enough. She was sat of the corner, hard by a woman thathath, said she, been a good friend unto her, and a right comfort, andwho, said she, must needs have a share in all her good things."

  "Oh, I'm glad she has a friend in that dreadful place! What's her name,Aunt, an' it like you?"

  "Didn't say."

  "But I would like to pray for her," said Christie with a disappointedlook; "and I can't say, `Bless that woman.'"

  "Why not?" said Aunt Tabitha bluntly. "Art 'feared the Lord shall beperplexed to know which woman thou meanest, and go and bless the wrongone?"

  "Why, no! He'll know, of course. And, please, has Aunt Alice a cushionfor her back?"

  Tabitha laughed curtly. "Cushions grow not in prisons, child. Nay,she's never a cushion."

  "Oh, I'm sorry!" said Christie mournfully. "And I've got three! I wishI could give her one of mine."

  "Well, I scarce reckon she'd have leave to keep it, child. Howbeit,thou canst pray thy father to make inquiration."

  "Oh ay! I'll pray Father to ask. Thank you, Aunt Tabitha. Was AuntAlice very, very pleased to see you?"

  "Didn't ask her. She said some'at none so far off it. Dear heart! butwhat ado is here?"

  And Tabitha rose to examine the details of the "ado." Two fine horsesstood before the gate, each laden with saddle and pillion, the formerholding a serving-man, and the latter a lady. From a third horse therider, also a man-servant in livery, had alighted, and he was now comingto help the ladies down. They were handsomely dressed, in a style whichshowed them to be people of some consequence: for in those days thetexture of a woman's hood, the number of her pearls, and the breadth ofher lace and fur were carefully regulated by sumptuary laws, and woebetide the esquire's daughter, or the knight's wife, who presumed topoach on the widths reserved for a Baroness!

  "Bless us! whoever be these?" inquired Tabitha of nobody in particular."I know never a one of their faces. Have they dropped from the clouds?"

  "Perhaps it's a mistake," suggested Christie.

  "Verily, so I think," rejoined her aunt. "I'd best have gone myself tothem--I'm feared Nell shall scarce--"

  But Nell opened the door with the astonishing announcement of--"MistressGrena Holland, and Mistress Pandora Roberts, to visit the littlemistress."

  If anything could have cowed or awed Tabitha Hall, it would certainlyhave been that vision of Mistress Grena, in her dress of dark bluevelvet edged with black fur, and her tawny velvet hood with its gold-setpearl border. She recognised instinctively the presence of a womanwhose individuality was almost equal to her own, with the education andbearing of a gentlewoman added to it. Christabel was astonished at therespectful way in which Aunt Tabitha rose and courtesied to thevisitors, told them who she was, and that the master of the house wasaway at his daily duties.

  "Ay," said Mistress Grena gently, "we wot that Master Hall must needsleave his little maid much alone, for my brother, Master Roberts ofPrimrose Croft, is owner of the works whereof he is manager."

  This announcement brought a yet lower courtesy from Tabitha, who nowrealised that members of the family of Roger Hall's master had come tovisit Christabel.

  "And as young folks love well to converse together apart from theirelders, and my niece's discretion may well be trusted," added MistressGrena, "if it serve you, Mistress Hall, we will take our leave. Whichroad go you?"

  "I will attend you, my mistress, any road, if that stand with yourpleasure."

  "In good sooth, I would gladly speak with you a little. I have anerrand to Cranbrook, and if it answer with your conveniency, then shallyou mount my niece's horse, and ride with me thither, I returning hitherfor her when mine occasion serveth."

  Tabitha having intimated that she could make this arrangement very wellsuit her convenience, as she wished to go to Cranbrook some day thatweek, the elder women took their departure, and Pandora was left alonewith Christie.

  Some girls would have been very shy of one another in thesecircumstances, but these two were not thus troubled; Pandora, becauseshe was too well accustomed to society, and Christie because she was toomuch excited by the unwonted circumstances. Pandora drew Christie outby a few short, well-directed questions; and many minutes had not passedbefore she knew much of the child's lonely life and often sorrowfulfancies.

  "Father's the best father that ever was, or ever could be!" saidChristie lovingly: "but look you, Mistress, he is bound to leave me--hecan't tarry with me. And I've no sisters, and no mother; and AuntTabitha can't be here often, and Aunt Alice is--away at present."

  "Thou art somewhat like me, little Christie, for though I have onesister, I also have no mother."

  "Do you miss her, Mistress?" asked Christie, struck by the pathos ofPandora's tone.

  "Oh, so much!" The girl's eyes filled with tears.

  "I can't remember my mother," said Christie simply. "She was good,everybody says; but I can't recollect her a whit. I was only a babywhen she went to Heaven, to live with the Lord Jesus."

  "Ah, but I do remember mine," was Pandora's answer. "My sister wasthirteen, and I was eleven, when our mother died; and I fretted so muchfor her, they were feared I might go into a waste, and I was sent awayfor five years, to dwell with my grandmother, well-nigh all the lengthof England off. I have but now come home. So thou seest I can feelsorry for lonesome folks, little Christie."

  Christie's face flushed slightly, and an eager, wistful look came intoher eyes. She was nerving herself to make a confession that she hadnever made before, even to her father or her Aunt Alice. She did notpause to ask herself why she should choose Pandora as its recipient; sheonly felt it possible to say it to the one, and too hard to utter it tothe others.

  "It isn't only lonesomeness, and that isn't the worst, either. Buteverybody says that folks that love God ought to work for Him, and Ican't do any work. It doth Him no good that I should work in colouredsilks and wools, and the like; and I can't do nothing else: so I can'twork for God. I would I could do something. I wouldn't care how hardit was. Justine--that's one of my cousins--grumbles because she saysher work is so hard; but if I could work, I wouldn't grumble, howeverhard it was--if only it were work for God."

  "Little Christie," said Pandora softly, stroking the fair hair, "shall Itell thee a secret?"

  "If it please you, Mistress." The answer did not come with anyeagerness; Christie thought the confession, which had cost hersomething, was to be shelved as a matter of no interest, and herdisappointment showed itself in her face.

  Pandora smiled. "When I was about thy years, Christie, one day as Icame downstairs, I made a false step, and slid down to the bottom of theflight. It was not very far--maybe an half-dozen steps or more: but Ifell with my ankle doubled under me, and for nigh a fortnight I couldnot walk for the pain. I had to lie all day on a day-bed; and thoughdivers young folks were in the house, and many sports going, I could notshare in any, but lay there and fretted me o'er my misfortune. I wasnot patient; I was very impatient. But there was in the house a goodman, a friend of my grandmother, that came one even into the parlourwhere I lay, and found me in tears. He asked me no questions. He didbut lay his hand upon my brow as I lay there with my kerchief to mineeyes, and quoth he, `My child, to do the work of God is to do His will.'Hast t
hou yet learned my lesson, Christie?"

  Christie's eyes were eager enough now. She saw that the answer wascoming, not put aside for something more entertaining to Pandora.

  "Many and many a time, Christie, hath that come back to me, when I havebeen called to do that which was unpleasing to me, that which perchanceseemed lesser work for God than the thing which I was doing. And I haveoft found that what I would have done instead thereof was not the workGod set me, but the work I set myself."

  "Then can I work for God, if I only lie here?"

  "If God bid thee lie there, and bear pain and weakness, and weariness,dear child, then that is His work, because it is His will for thee. Itwould not be work for God, if thou wert to arise and scour the floor,when He bade thee 'bide still and suffer. Ah, Christie, we are all ofus sore apt to make that blunder--to think that the work we setourselves is the work God setteth us. And 'tis very oft He giveth uscross-training; the eager, active soul is set to lie and bear, while thetimid, ease-loving nature is bidden to arise and do. But so long as itis His will, it is His work."

  It did not strike Christie as anything peculiar or surprising that hernew acquaintance should at once begin to talk to her in this strain.She had lived exclusively with people older than herself, and all whomshe knew intimately were Christian people. Aunt Tabitha sometimespuzzled her; but Christie's nature was not one to fret and strain over apoint which she could not comprehend. It seemed to her, therefore, notonly right, but quite a matter of course, that Pandora Roberts should beof the same type as her father and her Aunt Alice.

  "I thank you, Mistress," she said earnestly. "I will do mine utmost tobear it in mind, and then, maybe, I shall not be so impatient as oft Iam."

  "Art thou impatient, Christabel?"

  "Oh, dreadfully!" said Christie, drawing a long sigh. "Not always, lookyou; there be times I am content, or if not, I can keep it all insidemostly. But there be times it will not tarry within, but comes rightout, and then I'm so 'shamed of myself afterward. I marvel how it isthat peevishness isn't like water and other things--when they comepouring out, they are out, and they are done; but the more peevishnesscomes out of you, the more there seems to be left in. 'Tis not oft,look you, it really comes right outside: that would be shocking! but'tis a deal too often. And I _do_ want to be like the Lord Jesus!"

  Something bright and wet dropped on Christabel's forehead as Pandorastooped to kiss her.

  "Little Christie," she said tenderly, "I too right earnestly desire tobe like the Lord Jesus. But the best of all is that the Lord Himselfdesires it for us. He will help us both; and we will pray each forother."