“And where are we to look for it, Mr. Allison? Which is the right direction?”
“Within and heavenward,” was answered, with a smile so radiant that it made the wan face of the old man beautiful. “Like the kingdom of heaven, this good time comes not by ‘observation;’ nor with a ‘lo, here!’ and a ‘lo, there!’ It must come within us, in such a change of our ruling affections, that all things good and true, which are real and eternal verities, shall be the highest objects of love; for if we love things that are real and abiding, and obtain as well as love them, our happiness is complete.”
“Thanks for the many lessons of wisdom I have received from your lips,” replied Mr. Markland. “Well would it have been for me if I had earlier heeded them. But the ground was not hitherto prepared. Now, after the rank weeds have been removed, the surface broken by many furrows, and the ground watered with tears, good seed is falling into its bosom.”
“May it bring forth good fruit—some thirty, some sixty, and some an hundred-fold!” was said, low and fervently, by the aged monitor; and, in the pause that followed, his ear caught a whispered “Amen.”
And the good seed did spring up in this good ground, and good fruit came in the harvest time. Strongly tempted, indeed, was Mr. Markland, by his love of the world, and the brilliant rewards it promised to the successful, to enter a bold combatant in its crowded arena; but there were wise and loving counsellors around him, and their words were not unheeded. Instead of aspiring after “Woodbine Lodge,” he was content to purchase “Lawn Cottage,” and invest the remainder of what he had received in property that not only paid him a fair interest, but was increasing in value. The offer of Mr. Willet to enter into business was accepted, and in this his gains were sufficient to give him all needed external comforts, and a reasonable prospect of moderate accumulation.
How peacefully moved on again the pure stream of Mrs. Markland’s unambitious life! If her way through the world was not so thickly bordered with brilliant flowers, humbler blossoms lined it, and she gathered as sweet honey from these as ever from their gayer sisters. She, too, had grown wiser, and could read the pages of a book whose leaves she had once turned vainly, searching for truth.
Even Aunt Grace was beginning to feel that there were some things in the world not dreamed of in her common-sense philosophy. She looked on thoughtfully, pondering much of what she heard and saw, in her heart. She had ceased to speak about the annoyance of having “Woodbine Lodge” “forever staring down,” with a kind of triumph, upon them; though it was hard for her, at all times, to rise above this weakness. The “Markland blood,” as she said, was too strong within her. What puzzled her most was the cheerful heart of her brother, and the interest he took in many things once scarcely noticed. Formerly, when thought went beyond himself, its circumference was limited by the good of his own family; but now, he gave some care to the common good, and manifested a neighbourly regard for others. He was looking in the right direction for “that good time coming,” and the light of a better morning was breaking in upon his spirit.
As years progressed, the day grew broader, and the light of the morning became as the light of noonday. And as it was with him and his, so may it be with us all. In each of our hearts is a dissatisfied yearning toward the future, and a looking for a brighter day than any that has yet smiled down upon us. But this brighter day will never dawn except in the world of our spirits. It is created by no natural sun of fire, but by the sun of divine love. In vain, then, do we toil and struggle, and press forward in our journey through the world, fondly believing that in wealth, honour, or some more desired external good, the soul’s fruition will be gained. The immortal spirit will ever be satisfied with these things; and the good time will never come to the erring seeker.
THE END.
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