Part 46 (2/2)
”Then we should be reduced to a present nothing. The Melbourne property brings in very little, nothing, in fact, without a master on the spot to manage it. I dare say some trifling rent might be obtained for it; and the sale of Magnolia and its corresponding estates would fetch something if the times admitted of sale. You know it is impossible now. We should have scarce anything to live upon, my child, to satisfy your philanthropy.”
”Papa, there was a poor woman once, who was reduced to a handful of meal and a little oil as her whole household store.
Yet at the command of the prophet of the Lord, she took some of it to make bread for him, before she fed herself and her child - both of them starving. And the Lord never let her want either meal or oil all the time the famine lasted.”
”Miracles do not come for people's help, now-a-days, Daisy.”
”Papa, yes! G.o.d's ways may change, His ways of doing the same thing; but He does not change. He takes care of His people now without miracles, all the same.”
”All the same!” repeated papa. ”That is an English expression, that you have caught from your friends.”
We were both silent for a while.
”Daisy, my child, your views of all these things will alter by and by. You are young, and have slight experience of the things of life. By and by, you will find it a much more serious thing than you imagine to be without wealth. You would find a great difference between the heiress and the penniless girl; a difference you would not like.”
”Papa,” I said slowly, - ”I hope you will not be displeased or hurt, - but I want it to be known, and I wanted you should know, that I never shall be an heiress. I never will be rich in that way. I will take what G.o.d gives me.”
”First throwing away what He has given you,” said papa.
”I do not think He has given it, papa.”
”What then? have we stolen it?”
”Not we; but those who have been before us, papa; they stole it. All we are doing, is keeping that which is not ours.”
”Enough too, I should think!” said papa. ”You will alter your mind, Daisy, about all this, if you wait a while. What do you think your mother would say to it?”
”I know, papa,” I said softly. ”But I cannot help thinking of what will be said somewhere else. I would like that you and I, and she too, might have that 'Well done' - which the Lord Jesus will give to some. And when they enter into the joy of their Lord, will they care what His service has cost them?”
My eyes were full of tears, and I could scarcely speak; for I felt that I had gained very little ground, or better no ground at all. What indeed could I have expected to gain? Papa sat still, and I looked over at Jerusalem, where the westing sun was making a bath of sunbeams for the old domes and walls. A sort of promise of glory, which yet touched me exceedingly from its contrast with present condition. Even so of other things, and other places besides Jerusalem. But Melbourne seemed to be in shadow. And Magnolia? -
I wondered what papa would say next, or whether our talk had come to a deadlock then and there. I had a great deal more myself to say; but the present opportunity seemed to be questionable. And then it was gone; for Mr. Dinwiddie mounted the hill and came to take a seat beside us.
”Any news, Mr. Dinwiddie?” was papa's question, as usual.
”From America.”
”What sort of news?”
”Confused sort - as the custom is. Skirmishes which amount to nothing, and tell nothing. However, there is a little more this time. Fort Henry has been taken, on the Tennessee river, by Commander Foote and his gunboats.”
”Successes cannot always be on one side, of course,” remarked my father.
”Roanoke Island has been taken, by the sea and land forces under Burnside and Goldsborough.”
”Has it!” - said papa. ”Well, - what good will that do them?”
”Strengthen their hearts for continuing the struggle,” said Mr. Dinwiddie. ”It will do that.”
<script>