rain. But the heaven-sent shower sank into the earth, and they were
the stronger, Sweeter for it, more eager to make life brave and
beautiful, because death had gently shown them what it should be.
When the boys came home they found their mother already
returned, and Jill upon the parlor sofa listening to her account of
the funeral with the same quiet, hopeful look which their own
faces wore; for somehow the sadness seemed to have gone, and a
sort of Sunday peace remained.
“I’m glad it was all so sweet and pleasant. Come and rest, you look
so tired”; and Jill held out her hands to greet them–a crumpled
handkerchief in one and a little bunch of fading lilies in the other.
Jack sat down in the low chair beside her and leaned his head
against the arm of the sofa, for he was tired. But Frank walked
slowly up and down the long rooms with a serious yet serene look
on his face, for he felt as if he had learned something that day, and
would always be the better for it. Presently he said, stopping
before his mother, who leaned in the easy-chair looking up at the
picture of her boys’ father,
“I should should like to have just such things said about me when
I die.”
“So should I, if I deserved them as Ed did!” cried Jack, earnestly.
“You may if you try. I should be proud to hear them, and if they
were true, they would comfort me more than anything else. I am
glad you see the lovely side of sorrow, and are learning the lesson
such losses teach us,” answered their mother, who believed in
teaching young people to face trouble bravely, and find the silver
lining in the clouds that come to all of us.
“I never thought much about it before, but now dying doesn’t seem
dreadful at all–only solemn and beautiful. Somehow everybody
seems to love everybody else more for it, and try to be kind and
good and pious. I can’t say what I mean, but you know, mother”;
and Frank went pacing on again with the bright look his eyes
always wore when he listened to music or read of some noble
action.
“That’s what Merry said when she and Molly came in on their way
home. But Molly felt dreadfully, and so did Mabel. She brought
me these flowers to press, for we are all going to keep some to
remember dear Ed by,” said Jill, carefully smoothing out the little
bells as she laid the lilies in her hymn-book, for she too had had a
thoughtful hour while she lay alone, imagining all that went on in
the church, and shedding a few tender tears over the friend who
was always so kind to her.
“I don’t want anything to remember him by. I was so fond of him, I
couldn’t forget if I tried. I know I ought not to say it, but I don’t see
why God let him die,” said Jack, with a quiver in his voice, for his
loving heart could not help aching still.
“No, dear, we cannot see or know many things that grieve us very
much, but we can trust that it is right, and try to believe that all is
meant for our good. That is what faith means, and without it we
are miserable. When you were little, you were afraid of the dark,
but if I spoke or touched you, then you were sure all was well, and
fell asleep holding my hand. God is wiser and stronger than any
father or mother, so hold fast to Him, and you will have no doubt
or fear, however dark it seems.”
“As you do,” said Jack, going to sit on the arm of Mamma’s chair,
with his cheek to hers, willing to trust as she bade him, hut glad to
hold fast the living hand that had led and comforted him all his
life.
“Ed used to say to me when I fretted about getting well, and
thought nobody cared for me, which was very naughty, ‘Don’t be
troubled, God won’t forget you; and if you must be lame, He will