The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1907-04-26

1
voice: ut is only this morning that DR.
Hesketh told me that, although any acut,
pain from the injuries l received from The
accident is now thing of the past, il
may be months, even year or two, be
| fore can live an active life. l was so full
of plans for the winters work, Mr.
Rivers, just longing to do my share.
have no home duties or ties since deal
mothers death, as you know; and l felt
so free, free to 60 out and serve the
| Master, and now l am condemned sc
this selfcentered existence; it seems hard
Indeed, it is very hard" agreed the
minister. He was young. younger, in.
deed, than the woman whom his duties
called on him to comfort, and though the
kindliest spirit was there, words were
difficult, and, indeed. he was dismayed
at the prospect of the continuance of the
church work without this loyal, kind
supporter, who waved a magic wand
which made rough places smooth, and
sour people amiable, and even charmed
irascible deacons into working together
harmoniously, were they ever so divided
in opinions. .. . --a- .-.s
Indeed, it is very hard" he repeated;
then added with forced cheerfulness, "but
still we must hope for the best, Miss Will
son. Doctors are proverbial croakers,
and you, who have had such remarkable
strength and energy, may give them a
surprise yet"
But the patient shook her head, the hot
tears rose to her eyes, and her throat
contracting, choked her utterance. Mr..
Rivers. with truly masculine fear of any
scene favoring of the emotional, said
hastily. "Shall pray?" and receiving an
acquiescent nod from Margaret in reply.
he knelt and poured out in the more fa-
miliar utterance of prayer his petitions
for the returned health and activity of
the sufferer.
Then. shaking hands with deep but
silent sympathy, he left Margaret to her
own oughts-thoughts which for the
first time in her forty years of life were
rebellious; she had gone through deep
suffering, carried many burdens, but this
particular burden was just the one her
shoulders were not fitted to receive
ANY other cup, Father, but let this pass
from me- Such was her attitude of
mind ..
The dusk deepened in the little room,
the light from street lamp made strange
CLEANS of cold light on ceiling and walls,
but still Margaret lay, metaphorically
speaking. with her face to the wall. An
other ring at the bell broke the stiffness
of the house. Alice entered hurriedly
and lit the lamp before answering the
bell; moment later a bright girlish
voice could be heard in the hall
'May see Miss Wilson for just ore
little minute ?"
After receiving permission for her adj
mittauce, Alice announced: Miss Doro-
thy Flower" and the pretty, fashionably
dressed girl. who had sat beside Marga-
ret at the last Christian Endeavor meet
ing she attended, walked into the room.
ooh, Dorothy, how kind of you'll ex-
claimed the invalid, as bunch of chry-
santhemums were thrust into her hand.
mot bit, dear Miss Wilson. Twas so
sorry to hear of your accident. What
lovely fire, and how bright and happy
you look in spite of your many troubles"
Margaret was silent from surprise; the
subdued light had evidently not revealed
her red eyes, and her smile of welcome
had been construed into the customary
brightness of past days.
do you know" continued Dorothy.
impulsively, that when heard about
your accident was so struck, because at
the last Christian Endeavor service you
attended l happened to be watching
your face as you sang that hymn about
being nothing and "a broken and useless
vessel for the Masters use made meet
and | saw how much you meant every
word of it; so when the dreadful accident
happened, and everyone said how wretch
ed and disappointed you would be at not
being able to do all your lots of good
work, l just knew you wouldn't. You
are so real and true in your religion, /
knew you wouldn't mind being broken
and useless vessel"
Dorothy, Dorothy" exclaimed Mar
garet, and burst into relieving flood of
tears. The young girl ran to her side in
astonishment, and finging her arms
around the bent head. petted and soothed
her back to equanimity.
'I've just been altogether too much for
you," she chartered. brightly; Il talk far
too much, uncle always says so. I'll run
away now, and leave you to rest, but
may l come again?'
"Of course, often child; only don't think
so highly of me: don't deserve it."
The child opened wide eyes as she re-
sponded, Indeed, you do" 1t would
have been almost cutting away part of
her religion if her faith in Margaret Will
sons entire sincerity had been shaken.
AS the door closed, Margaret's tears
were slowly replaced by happy smile, a
smile which was both radiant and tremu-
lous; it was the same smile-only more
sublime with which a woman greets her
lover after their first misunderstanding.
1t seemed to say, "For an hour did not
understand, distrusted you, but now
find myself blessedly and wholly in the
wrong; am ashamed, but oh, so pas
sionately happy in your love, that the
happiness drives out even the shame of
my distrust. 1t is harder to lie still and
suffer than to work for my liege Lord,
but am willing to be anything or moth.
ing, Just as He will
Such was Margaret Wilson's tardy &C.
ceptance of her cross. And when some
years later she arose from her couch, she
no longer considered there had been any
cross, for had she not been listening to
her Lords voice in still and quiet place.
She had been with Him on the mountain
h.