CHAPTER VII.
"Tell me the old, old story."
"My dear Zoe! what a happy face!" was Ella's pleased exclamation, as thetwo met in the breakfast-room.
"Very bright, indeed!" said Arthur, who had come in with Zoe, smilingkindly upon her as he spoke.
"Because it reflects the light and joy in my heart," she returned."Wouldn't it be strange if I were not happy in knowing that my husbandis not seriously hurt? Oh, we have been so happy together, that I haveoften feared it could not last!"
"There seems every reasonable prospect that it will," Arthur said, asthey seated themselves at the table. "You are both young and healthy,your tastes are congenial, and you have enough of this world's goods toenable you to live free from carking cares and exhausting labors."
Zoe was in so great haste to return to Edward, that she could scarcerefrain from eating her breakfast more rapidly than was consistent witheither politeness toward her guests or a due regard for her own health:but she tried to restrain her impatience; and Arthur, who perceived andsympathized with it, exerted himself for her entertainment, tellingamusing anecdotes, and making mirth-provoking remarks.
Ella, perceiving his designs, joined in, in the same strain. Zoepresently entered into their mood, and they seemed, as in fact theywere, a light-hearted and happy little breakfast party; both Arthur andElla feeling greatly relieved by the favorable change in their cousin,not for Zoe's sake alone, but also because of their own affection forhim.
Edward no longer needed Arthur as nurse: indeed, Zoe claimed the rightto a monopoly of the, to her, sweet task of waiting upon him, andattending to all his wants. So Arthur resigned in that capacity, but wasto continue his visits as physician.
He and Ella returned to Roselands shortly after leaving thebreakfast-table; and Zoe, in joyous, tender mood, took her place by herhusband's bedside.
He welcomed her with a loving smile, taking her hand in his, andcarrying it to his lips.
"Arthur has condemned me to lie here for a full week," he said. "Itwould seem a weary while in the prospect, but for the thought of having,through it all, the sweet companionship of my darling little wife."
"Dear Ned, how good in you to say so!" she murmured, kneeling beside thebed, and laying her cheek to his. "I don't believe there's anothercreature in the world that thinks my society of much account."
"If you are right in that, which I very much doubt," he said with asmile of incredulity, "it only shows their want of taste, and makes nodifference to us, does it, love, since we are all the world to eachother?"
"I am sure it makes no difference to me," she responded: "if you love,and are pleased with, me, it's very little I care what anybody else maythink or say about me. But, oh! isn't it nice to be alone togetheragain?"
"Very nice."
"And remember, you are to make all possible use of me,--as nurse,reader,--when you feel that you would like to listen to book ornews-paper,--as amanuensis, every thing."
"Yes, dearest, I expect to employ you in all those capacities by and by;but at present, I want nothing but to have you sit by my side, and talkto me, while I hold your hand, and feast my eyes on the face that is tome the dearest in all the world."
At that, the pretty face was suffused with blushes and smiles. "I'm sohappy! so very happy!" she murmured, stealing an arm round his neck. "Itis such a change from yesterday, when for a little while, I--I thoughtyou--were gone, and--and without my having had a chance to ask yourforgiveness."
The sobs came thick and fast as she went on. "O Ned! dear, dear Ned!I--I don't mean ever to be cross to you again, especially when we aregoing to part even for an hour."
"No," he said, with emotion, and drawing her closer to him; "we shouldnot have parted so; we had promised each other we would not; and Ishould have gone to you and made it up with you before leaving thehouse."
"It was all my fault," she sobbed; "and if--if you had been taken fromme, I could never have had another happy moment."
"Thank God that we are spared to each other!" he said with ferventgratitude. "And now, dear wife, let us try to forget that there has beenever any coldness or clashing between us. Let us enjoy the present, andbe as happy in each other as if no cloud, even the slightest, had evercome over our intercourse as husband and wife."
"Yes," she said. Then, lifting her face, and gazing earnestly into his,"How pale and exhausted you look!" she cried in alarm. "I have talked,and let you talk, too much and too excitingly. I'm afraid cousin Arthurwill say I am but a poor sort of nurse. Now," withdrawing herself fromhis embrace, and gently re-arranging his pillows, and smoothing thebed-clothes, "shut your eyes, and try to sleep. I'll stay close besideyou, and be as quiet as a mouse."
With a faint smile, he did as he was bidden; and she fulfilled herpromise to the letter, watching beside him with love and solicitude fortwo hours, till his eyes again unclosed, and met hers, gazing sotenderly upon him, with an answering look of ardent affection.
"You have had a good nap, and look quite refreshed, dear," she said,bending over him, and softly stroking his hair with her little whitehand.
"Yes; I feel much better," he said. "And you, love,--have you beensitting there all this time?"
"Of course I have," she answered gayly: "did you think I would break myword, or feel any desire to go away and leave you?"
"I know you to be the most devoted of nurses, when it is I who requireyour services," he returned, with a tenderly appreciative smile. "Youare the best of little wives. But you must be very weary, and I want younow to go and take some exercise in the open air."
"Is that an order?" she asked playfully.
"Not yet," he returned, in the same tone; "but, if not obeyed as arequest, it may become--something stronger."
"Well," she said laughing, "it won't hurt me if it does: you can't hurtme in that way any more; for do you know, Ned," and she bent lovinglyover him, pressing a kiss upon his forehead, "I have become such a sillything, that I actually enjoy obeying you,--when you don't order me as ifyou thought I wouldn't do as you wish, and you meant to force me to it."
"Forgive me, love, that I have ever done it in that spirit," he saidremorsefully, and coloring deeply.
"Ned, I haven't any thing to forgive," she said, with sudden energy andwarmth of affection.
"Then you will obey about the air and exercise?" he asked, returning tohis playful tone.
"Presently, sir, when I have seen you eat something. It's time for thatnow, according to the doctor's directions."
She rang for refreshment, saw him take it, then left him for a shorttime in the care of old Aunt Phillis, while she donned riding hat andhabit, mounted her pony, and flew over several miles of road and backagain.
She seemed to bring a breath of fresh air with her when she returned tohis side.
"My darling," he said, smiling up at her, "how the roses glow on yourcheeks, and how bright your eyes are! Give me a kiss, and then sit downclose by my side."
"I obey both orders most willingly," she said merrily, as she bent downand kissed him on lips and forehead and cheek, then took possession ofthe chair she had vacated on leaving the room.
"Now, sir, what next?"
"Move your chair round a trifle, so that I can have a better view ofyour face."
She smilingly obeyed. "There! does that satisfy your lordship?"
"Quite. Now talk to me."
"About what?"
"Any thing you please: the principal thing is to hear the music of yourvoice."
"Suppose I sing, then."
"Yes, yes!" eagerly; "that's just what I should enjoy. Let it be, 'Ilove to tell the story.'"
Zoe had a beautiful voice. Soft and sweet and clear it rose,--
"'I love to tell the story Of unseen things above,Of Jesus and his glory, Of Jesus and his love.I love to tell the story, Because I know it's true:It satisfies my longings As nothing else can do.
"I love to tell the story: 'Twill be my theme in glory,To tell the old, old story, Of Jesus and h
is love.
"I love to tell the story: More wonderful it seems,Than all the golden fancies Of all our golden dreams.I love to tell the story, It did so much for me;And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.
"I love to tell the story; 'Tis pleasant to repeatWhat seems, each time I tell it, More wonderfully sweet.I love to tell the story, For some have never heardThe message of salvation From God's own Holy Word.
"I love to tell the story; For those who know it best,Seem hungering and thirsting To hear it like the rest.And when in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,'Twill be the old, old story, That I have loved so long.'"
The last note died away, and for a moment there was silence in the room.Edward lay gazing into his wife's eyes with a look of sad, yearningtenderness.
"O Ned! why, why do you look so at me?" she asked, with a sudden burstof tears, and dropping her face on the pillow beside his. He had beenholding her hand while she sang; he kept it still, and, laying his otherone gently on her head, "Zoe, my darling," he said, in tones tremulouswith emotion, "it is the one longing desire of my heart that you maylearn the full sweetness of that old, old story. O love! sometimes thethought, 'What if my precious wife should miss heaven, and our union beonly for time, and not for eternity,' sends so keen a pang to my heart,that I know not how to endure it."
"O Ned! surely I shall not miss it," she said, with a sob: "my fatherand mother were such good Christians; and you, my own husband, are sogood too."
"Ah, my darling!" he sighed, "that hope is but as a spider's web. Do younot remember that passage in Ezekiel, 'Though these three men, Noah,Daniel, and Job, were in it, they should deliver but their own souls bytheir righteousness, saith the Lord God'? And it is repeated again andagain, 'Though Noah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, as I live, saith theLord God, they shall deliver neither son nor daughter; they shall butdeliver their own souls by their righteousness.' Zoe, dear, norighteousness but the imputed righteousness of Christ can save the soulfrom death. He offers it to you, love; and will you continue to rejectit?"
"Ned," she sobbed, "I wish I had it: I often think I would be aChristian if I only knew how, but I don't."
"Do you not?" he asked, in some surprise. "I will try to make it plain.Jesus offers you a full and free salvation, purchased by what he hasdone and suffered in your stead, that 'God might be just, and yet thejustifier of him who believeth in Jesus.'
"'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.'
"He bids you come to him, and says, 'Him that cometh to me, I will inno wise cast out.'"
"But how shall I come?" she asked. "Tell me just how."
"How do you come to me, love, when you feel that you have displeased me,and want to be reconciled?"
"Oh! you know I just come and acknowledge that I've been hateful andcross, and say how sorry I am, and that I don't mean to behave so anymore, and ask you to forgive and love me; and, dear Ned, you are alwaysso willing and ready to do that, you hardly wait till I've said my say,before you put your arms round me, and hug and kiss me, and it's allright between us."
"Yes, dearest; and God, our heavenly Father, is far more ready toreceive and forgive us when we turn to him with sorrow for our sins,confessing them and pleading for pardon in the name, and for the sake,of his dear Son, our Saviour," "I'm afraid I don't feel half so sorry asI ought."
"Who of us does? but we are not to wait for that. We must come to him,to be shown the evil of our natures, the sinfulness of our lives.
"'Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour,for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins.'"
"But how am I to make myself believe?" she asked.
"'By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it isthe gift of God.' So you see, we have to go to Jesus for it all,--forrepentance, for faith, for salvation from the guilt and love of sin, andfrom eternal death.
"The plan of salvation is very simple,--its very simplicity seems tostumble many; they don't know how to believe that it is offered them asa free gift; they think they must do something to merit it; but itcannot be bought, it is 'without money and without price.' 'Whosoeverwill, let him take the water of life freely,' Come to Jesus, dear one;come now, for only the present moment is yours; delay is most dangerous,for the invitation may be withdrawn at any time."
"If I could only see him! If I could hear his voice!" she sighed.
"That you cannot; yet you know I am not nearer to you, or more willingto hear a petition from you, than he is."
At that moment a well-known step was heard in the hall without; and asZoe rose hastily, wiping her eyes, Arthur tapped at the door.