A comfortable meal had been prepared for them in the s.p.a.cious kitchen, and all were soon busily engaged in partaking of the tea and its accompaniments, and in brisk and cheerful conversation; but not a word was said to explain why they had been invited at this particular time.

Their host joined heartily in the various little discussions which were being carried on in a lively way by his guests, but never, during the tea, dropped a hint as to, why he had asked them.

At last, when teapots and cups had disappeared, leaving a clear table, and the young women, after grace had been duly sung, sat opposite to one another with a look of amused expectation as to what might be coming next, Thomas rose deliberately from his arm-chair, which he had drawn to the head of the table, and looking round on the young people with a half-serious, half-humorous expression, said: "Well, I suppose, girls, it may be as well if I tell you what I've asked you here for this evening."

No answer, but a murmur of amused a.s.sent being given, he proceeded:--

"Now, my dear young friends, I'll just tell you all about it; and I'm sure you'll listen to me seriously, for it's a serious matter after all.

You know that poor Miss Clara Maltby is gone from home to-day very ill, so ill that it mayn't be the Lord's will she should ever come back to us again. Now she has asked me to give you all and each a message from her--perhaps it may be a dying message. She sends it to every one as belonged to her cla.s.s when she taught it. I'm going to tell you what she said, not quite in her own words, but just what I took to be her meaning.

"You know as she's not taken her cla.s.s for a good long time. We was all very sorry when she gave over, but it seemed as it couldn't be helped, for she was getting weak and worn, and felt that coming to church twice on the Lord's-day was as much as her poor mind and body would bear. But she wants me to tell you how she feels now she's been letting earthly learning get too much hold of her thoughts. Not as there's any harm in getting any sort of good learning, so long as you don't get it in the wrong way. But it seems as this earthly learning had been getting too big a share of Miss Clara's heart. I daresay you all know as she's wonderful clever at her books. Eh, what a sight of prizes she's got!

Well, but she'd come to be too fond of her studies; they was becoming a snare to her; she'd made a regular idol of them, and could scarce think of anything else. She'd given them all the time she could spare, and more. And so it kept creeping on. These studies of hers, they'd scarce let her eat or drink, or take any exercise, or read her Bible and pray as she used to do. Ah, how crafty the evil one is in leading us astray!

He don't make us jump down into the dark valley at one or two big leaps, but it's just down an incline, like the path as leads from Bill Western's house to the smithy: when you've got to the bottom and look back, you can hardly believe at first as you've come down so low.

"Now, you're not to run away with the idea that Miss Clara has forsaken her Saviour, and given up her Bible and prayer. Nothing of the sort!

She's a dear child of G.o.d, and always has been since I've knowed her; only this learning and these studies have so blocked up her heart, that they've scarce left room for her gracious Saviour. But yet he'd never let her go, and she hadn't altogether forsaken him; only she's been on a wrong course of late, and she sees it now.

"Friends have flattered her, and told her what grand things she might do with such a head-piece as hers, and she's been willing to listen to them for a bit. But now the Lord has brought her to see different, and she wants me to tell you what a snare she has found this learning to be.

She wants me to tell you from her that she's found it out in her own experience as there's no happiness out of Christ; as head knowledge can never make us happy without heart knowledge of Jesus.

"It's all very well wishing to shine in the world and be thought clever, but that's just pleasing self, and can never give us real peace. She's tried it, and she says it's 'vanity of vanities.' It's led her away from her duty, and made her neglect helping her dear father and mother in many ways where she might have been useful, just because her head and her heart were full of her books.

"Now, perhaps some of you may be thinking, while I've been talking, 'Well, this don't concern _us_ much; we ain't in danger of going astray after too much learning.' Don't you be too sure of that. There's traps of the same kind being laid before you by the old enemy, though they mayn't be got up so fine as them by which he catches clever young ladies. Ah, perhaps he'll be whispering to some of you as it'll be a grand thing to get up a peg or two higher by learning all sorts of things with queer and long names to 'em. Won't you just make folks open their eyes when you can rattle off a lot about this science and that science? But what good will it do you? How much will you remember of it ten years hence? What'll be the use of it, when you've got homes of your own, if you've your heads cram full of hard names, but don't know how to mend your clothes or make a pudding? Depend upon it, there's need to listen to Miss Clara's message when she bids me tell you from her as there's no real happiness to be got in making an idol of learning or anything else, and that there's no happiness out of Christ; and that the chief thing is just to do one's duty, by grace, in 'the state of life to which it has pleased G.o.d to call us;' and then, if he means us to do something out of the way, he'll chalk out a line for us so broad and plain that we shan't be able to mistake it.

"So now I've given you the message; but there's something else for you besides.--Here, missus, just hand me that little brown paper parcel."-- So saying, he opened the packet which his wife gave him, and taking out the photographs, handed one to each of the girls, saying, "It's a keepsake to each of you from Miss Clara."

As the little gifts were received, tears and sobs burst from the whole company; and when time had been given for the first vehemence of their feelings to subside, Thomas continued,--

"I've just one or two more things to say; and the first is this: will you all promise me to pray for our dear young lady, that she may be restored to us in health and strength again, and take her place once more as your teacher?"

"Ay, that we will with all our hearts," was the cry, which was uttered with tearful earnestness by all.

"And will you pray, for yourselves, for grace to remember and profit by the lesson which she has sent you?"

"We will, Thomas, we will," was again the cry.

"Well, thank G.o.d for that," said Bradly. "He's bringing good out of evil already, as he always does,--bless his holy name for it! And now, I've just to tell you, girls, why I've asked you to tea, and given you the messages and the photographs in this fashion--I daresay some of you can guess."

"I think we can, Thomas," said one of the elder ones.

"Well, it were just in this way," he continued: "I'm jealous about our dear vicar's character, and about dear Miss Clara's, and I'm sure we all ought to be. Now, if I'd given you her message in the Sunday-school, even if I'd had your cla.s.s by yourselves, ten to one some of the other scholars would have got hold of things by the wrong end, and it would have been made out as Miss Clara had been doing something very wicked, and her mother had been taking her away in consequence. Now, you see how it is: Miss Clara's done nothing to disgrace herself or her family; she's been following a lawful thing, only she's been following it too closely; but she's found it to be only like chasing a shadow after all.

And now that the Lord has humbled her, he'll raise her up again; she'll come out of the furnace pure gold; she'll be such a teacher when she comes back as she never was afore, if the Lord spares her. So now that I've got you here in this quiet way, I want you all to promise me you'll not go talking about what Miss Clara sent me to tell you, but you'll keep it as snug as possible; it ain't meant for the public, it's meant only for yourselves. The world wouldn't understand it; they'd think as there was something behind. And the devil, he'd be only too glad to make a bad use of it. So promise me to keep our dear young lady's lesson to yourselves in your own hearts and memories. You can show the photographs to the other scholars, and tell them as they was Miss Clara's parting gifts to her cla.s.s, and that's all as they need to know."

The promise was cheerfully given by all; and then, before they left, all knelt, and in their hearts joined in the fervent prayer which Thomas Bradly offered for the vicar and his family, and specially for the invalid, that she might be spared to return to them in renewed health, and be kept meanwhile in perfect peace.

The evening after this little happy tea-party, Thomas Bradly called in at William Foster's. He found the young man and his wife studying the Bible together; but there was a look of trouble and anxiety on the husband's face which made him fear that there was something amiss. He was well aware that his former foe but now firm friend was but a weak and ignorant disciple; and he expected, therefore, that he would find it anything but smooth sailing at first in his Christian course. Still, what a marvellous change, to see one so lately a sceptic and a scoffer now humbly studying the Word of Life!

"Anything amiss?" asked Bradly. "Can I be of any service to you, William?" he added, as he took his seat.

"Well, Thomas," replied the other, "I can only say this--I had no idea how little I knew of the Bible till I began to study it in earnest. I see it does indeed need to be approached in a teachable spirit. But I have my difficulties and perplexities about it still. Only there's this difference now,--I've seen in my own home, and I see daily more and more in my own heart, abundance to convince me that the Bible is G.o.d's truth.

So now, when I meet with a difficulty, I see that the obscurity is not in the Bible but in myself; in fact, I want more light."

"Yes; and you'll get it now, William; for the Bible itself says, 'The entrance of thy word giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple.'"

"I heartily believe it, Thomas; still there is much that is very deep to me--out of my depth, in fact. But there is one thing just now which is a special trouble to me. They don't chaff me so often at the mill now, but this evening Ben Thompson came up to me, and said, 'Do you think it's any good _your_ turning Christian?'--'Yes, Ben, I hope so,' I said.--'Well,' he went on, 'just you look in the Bible, and you'll find that there's what they call the unpardonable sin--there's no forgiveness for those who've been guilty of it; and if there's truth in that Bible, there's no forgiveness for you, for you've been the biggest blasphemer against the Bible in Crossbourne.' Thomas, I hadn't a word to answer him with; his words cut me to the heart, and he saw it, and went off with a grin full of malice. And now, since I came home, Kate and I have been looking through the Gospels, and we've come to this pa.s.sage, in our Saviour's own words,--'Verily, I say unto you, All sins shall be forgiven unto the sons of men, and blasphemies wherewith soever they shall blaspheme: but he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal d.a.m.nation: because they said, He hath an unclean spirit.' Now, I'm afraid I've committed that sin many times; and what then? Is it true that there is no forgiveness for me?"

He gazed earnestly into Bradly's face, as one would look on a man on whose decision hung life or death. But the other's reply brought relief at once to both Foster and his wife.

"Ha! ha!" he exclaimed; "is that the old enemy's device? I'm not surprised--he's a crafty old fox; but the Lord's wiser than him. I see what he's been up to: he couldn't keep the sword of the Spirit out of your hand any longer, so he's been trying to make you turn the point away from him, and commit suicide with it. Set your mind at rest, William, about these verses, and about the unpardonable sin; those who are guilty of it never seek forgiveness, and so they never get it.

These words ain't meant for such a case as yours. This is the sort of text for you: 'G.o.d so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Jesus said it, and he'll never go back from it.

'Whosoever' means you and me; he said, 'Whosoever,' and he'll never unsay it. If you'd committed the unpardonable sin, you wouldn't be caring now about the Bible and about your soul. If you'd committed it, G.o.d would never have given you the light he has done, for it has come from him; it can't have come from nowhere else. He don't open to you the door with one hand, and then shut it in your face with the other; that ain't his way at all He has let you in at the gate, and you may be sure as he'll never turn you off the road with his own hand, now that you're on it."

"Thank G.o.d for that!" said Foster, reverently. "What you say, Thomas, carries conviction with it, for I am sure that my present views, and the change that has so far been made in me, must be the Lord's own work; and, if so, it is certainly only consistent that, as he has taken in hand such a wretched blasphemer as I have been, he should not undo his own work by casting me off again."

"Hold fast to that, William," said Bradly, "and you can't go wrong.

Just hand me your Bible; I'll show you where to find another text or two as'll suit you well.--Eh! What's this?" he cried, as having taken the little book into his hand, he noticed the red-ink lines which were drawn under many of the verses. Then he turned hastily to the inside of the cover, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment, then turned very pale, and then very red, and gazed at the book as if fascinated by it.

There were the words on the cover,--

_Steal not this book for fear of shame_, _For here you see the owner's name_.

_June 10, 1793_.

_Mary Williams_.

"Where did you get this book?" he asked at length, in a hoa.r.s.e, broken voice. "It's my mother's Bible; it's Jane's long-lost Bible." Then he restrained himself, and turning quietly to Foster and his wife, who were staring at him in bewilderment and distress, said, "Dear friends, don't you trouble yourselves about me; there's nothing really amiss; it's all right, and more than right, only I was taken by surprise, as you'll easily understand when I explain matters to you. We are all friends now, so I know I may depend upon your keeping my secret when I've told you all about it." He then proceeded to lay the story of Jane's troubles before his deeply interested and sympathising hearers. When he had brought his account to an end, he said, "Now, you can understand why I was so taken aback at seeing my mother's name in this Bible, and why I'm so anxious to know how you came by it. Why, this is the very Bible which was restored, or, at any rate, meant to be restored to Jane by John Hollands three or four months ago. But, then, how did it get here?

And what's become of the bag and the bracelet?"

"I'm sure you will believe me when I tell you," said Foster, "that I am as much surprised about the Bible as you are; and as for the bag and the bracelet, I have neither seen nor heard anything of either. Kate, however, can tell you best how we came by the Bible."

Mrs Foster then related how the volume, now so precious to herself and her husband as having been the means of bringing light and peace into their hearts and home, had been dropped in at her window by a female hand. Of the bag and bracelet she of course knew nothing.

"There's something very strange and mysterious about it all," said Thomas thoughtfully; "the bag and the bracelet are somewhere about, but who can tell where? If we could only find them, all could be set straight, and poor Jane's character completely cleared; but then it ain't the Lord's will, so far, that it should be so. One thing's clear, however; the tangle's being undone for us bit by bit, and what we've to do is just to be patient and to keep our eyes and ears open; but, please, not a word to anybody. And now, William, I must ask you to let me have this Bible to take to poor Jane; it was her mother's, and is full of her own marks under her favourite verses. You shall have another instead of it, with a better print."

"Of course," replied Foster; "this book is your sister's and not ours, and I would not keep it back from her for a moment. Still, I shall part with it with great regret, as if I were parting with an old friend.

Little did I think a few weeks ago that I should ever care so much about a Bible; but I thank G.o.d that this little book has done Kate and myself so much good already, and I shall be much pleased to have another copy as a gift from yourself."

Thomas Bradly rose to go; but Mrs Foster said, "I ought to have told you that there was something else dropped into the room at the same time with the Bible, but it wasn't the bracelet, I'm sorry to say."

"Stay, dear friend," cried Bradly; "let me run home to my dear sister with her Bible; I'll be back again in half an hour."

So saying he hurried home, and seating himself by Jane, who was knitting as usual in her snug retreat by the fireside, said, "Jane dear, the Lord's been bringing us just one little step nearer to the light--only one step, mind, only one little step, but it's a step in the right direction."

"Thomas, what is it?" she exclaimed anxiously.

"Your Bible's turned up."

"My Bible, Thomas!"

"Yes, Jane." He then placed it in her hand. Yes, she could see that it was indeed her own dearly-prized Bible.