This pair was blessed indeed, for years brought them,
with great prosperity, great goodness: they imparted
with open hand, yet wisely. Doubtless they knew
crosses, disappointments, difficulties; but these
were well borne. More than once, too, they had
to look on Him whose face flesh scarce can see and
live: they had to pay their tribute to the King
of Terrors. In the fulness of years, M. de Bassompierre
was taken: in ripe old age departed Louisa Bretton.
Once even there rose a cry in their halls, of Rachel
weeping for her children; but others sprang healthy
and blooming to replace the lost: Dr. Bretton
saw himself live again in a son who inherited his
looks and his disposition; he had stately daughters,
too, like himself: these children he reared with
a suave, yet a firm hand; they grew up according to
inheritance and nurture.
In short, I do but speak the truth when I say that
these two lives of Graham and Paulina were blessed,
like that of Jacob’s favoured son, with “blessings
of Heaven above, blessings of the deep that lies under.”
It was so, for God saw that it was good.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CLOUD.
But it is not so for all. What then? His
will be done, as done it surely will be, whether we
humble ourselves to resignation or not. The impulse
of creation forwards it; the strength of powers, seen
and unseen, has its fulfilment in charge. Proof
of a life to come must be given. In fire and
in blood, if needful, must that proof be written.
In fire and in blood do we trace the record throughout
nature. In fire and in blood does it cross our
own experience. Sufferer, faint not through terror
of this burning evidence. Tired wayfarer, gird
up thy loins; look upward, march onward. Pilgrims
and brother mourners, join in friendly company.
Dark through the wilderness of this world stretches
the way for most of us: equal and steady be our
tread; be our cross our banner. For staff we
have His promise, whose “word is tried, whose
way perfect:” for present hope His providence,
“who gives the shield of salvation, whose gentleness
makes great;” for final home His bosom, who
“dwells in the height of Heaven;” for crowning
prize a glory, exceeding and eternal. Let us
so run that we may obtain: let us endure hardness
as good soldiers; let us finish our course, and keep
the faith, reliant in the issue to come off more than
conquerors: “Art thou not from everlasting
mine Holy One? WE SHALL NOT DIE!”
On a Thursday morning we were all assembled in classe,
waiting for the lesson of literature. The hour
was come; we expected the master.
The pupils of the first classe sat very still; the
cleanly-written compositions prepared since the last
lesson lay ready before them, neatly tied with ribbon,
waiting to be gathered by the hand of the Professor
as he made his rapid round of the desks. The month
was July, the morning fine, the glass-door stood ajar,
through it played a fresh breeze, and plants, growing
at the lintel, waved, bent, looked in, seeming to
whisper tidings.
