Part 7.
Once more it is springtime. It is nature’s resurrection; birds and flowers all feel it, and a glorious anthem of praise fills the air. Stray sunbeams find their way into Geraldine’s nursery, and play about her head as she lies pale as a lily in her little cot.
Lady L’Estrange stands at the window, and her eyes, heavy with watching and weeping, are fixed on those bright morning clouds. A morning song is filling her heart; a song to hush the night of weeping. “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth give I unto you.”
We may only partially raise the veil to reveal the conflict that has been raging in that mother’s heart; that once proud heart which had risen up in its rebellion, and said, “Not Thy will, but mine,” when softened and broken by loneliness and grief had been drawn bleeding and wounded to the Saviour’s feet; there it had found shelter, rest and peace; and now, knowing “in whom she had believed,” the mother was supported in the midst of those terrible waves of tribulation that threatened to engulf her.
She had come out of darkness into light, and the effulgence of the Sun of Righteousness, now rising on her soul, had shed its radiance on her face, and “there was a great calm.” Her Father in Heaven had given her His strength.
Many a song had there been in those nights of watching; sweet talks about the home above and the children in glory; blessed hours were they both to mother and child; hours which to the mother afterwards seemed like years, so rapidly had she then grown in spiritual experience.
Now the last night of loving watching had come, but the mother knew it not. Lady L’Estrange sat down again beside the bed, and presently the sweet brown eyes opened and Geraldine said: “I’m going very soon to Jesus, now, mamma; you will come too, some day; don’t cry, mamma; think how happy we shall be.”
Another pause, and then—
“Where is Katie? I am so tired, mamma. Is Barbara here?” and the little head sought an easier position on her mother’s arm.
Barbara entered the room unperceived by the child, and at a sign from Lady L’Estrange turned to send for Dr. Gray.
Soon the well-known step was heard on the stairs and he stood in the room. Lady L’Estrange saw the change in his expression as he tenderly looked at the child; she knew what it meant, and a deeper agony filled her heart.
“I will call her father,” he said, as he turned away.
Lord L’Estrange came and joined the group around the little bed; his pale face and firmly compressed lips alone showing the intensity of his grief.
“Papa,” escaped from the white lips, as he bent to kiss them, and tiny wasted fingers sought his hand as her mother raised her slightly on the pillow.
Once more she smiled at them all; the beautiful eyes were opened, and their glances directed towards the blue sky and floating white clouds; then, with a gentle parting sigh the little spirit winged its way to the bosom of her God.
No one spoke at first; no tear dimmed the mother’s eye; her rapt vision seemed to have followed her child’s soul in its glorious flight; she had carried her to the brink of Jordan, and had seen the tender Shepherd bear her across; clouds had parted and the eye of faith had followed her darling till she seemed to see the glory beyond, and enter the golden gates with her beloved.
A gentle touch from the doctor recalled her. She was again on earth, and O! how dull this earth did seem.” Tears came to her relief; the golden head was lifted from her arm, and Lord L’Estrange, drawing her away from the bed, led her out of the room.
Slowly and reluctantly Dr. Gray returned home, dreading to tell Katie. The child met him at the door, exclaiming, “Oh, papa, how is darling Geraldine? Say she is better.”
Dr. Gray took her in his arms and said, “Katie, your little friend Geraldine will never be ill any more now. She is gone to Jesus.”
Mrs. Gray carried the little sobbing girl upstairs, and as Mary Keats saw her carried past, she hid her face and wept, while she thanked the Good Shepherd who had released the lamb from its sufferings and folded her in His arms. “I said she was only made for heaven,” she kept repeating after she reached home. “She spoke so, sweetly to me last Tuesday, and told me she was very happy.”
There was mourning at Silversands, for who in all that quiet village had not loved the little fair-haired girl with her sweet, winning way. And on Sunday Doctor Rutherford spoke touchingly to them on the words, “It is well with the child.”
Yes! There was grief on earth when little Geraldine passed away, but there was joy in heaven as another lamb came safely home to its Saviour.
ML 02/20/1916