Look on the Sunny Side, (continued 2)

Naturally her first thought was of Effie, and of the lack of maternal love which was due to the little one. She felt that she had often been too harsh; but here arose her first difficulty. It was comparatively easy to acknowledge her errors to God; but how change her conduct to the little one without at least owning that hitherto she, and not Effie, had been to blame for the gloom in their home and the cloud on the child's brow.

With a new-born perception of the value of her little daughter's love, Margaret Henderson felt a jealous dread of doing anything which might lower her in Effie's eyes, and she therefore hesitated for some time before she even determined on stealing quietly to the room to which the child had been banished. She took no light in her hand; and when she stood by the bed, nothing but the feeble ray from the new moon showed the couch in dim outline, though she could not see the child.

There was no movement when she reached the bedside, and she was about to steal softly away, feeling relieved at the thought that Effie had forgotten her troubles in sleep, and resolving that, by God's blessing, a new life should begin with the awaking. But first she bent to kiss the little sleeper, and she was startled at the clammy coldness of the cheek. She listened; she could not hear Effie breathe.

Then she gave utterance to an exceeding bitter cry. "She is dead; my child, my darling!" For there, in the almost entire darkness, the conviction rushed on her mind that, to punish her rebellious and unthankful spirit, she had been permitted to become sensible of her blessings, only that she might lose the greatest and most precious of the many that were left to her. Who can describe the agony of that moment? The mother believing the child dead, from whom she had parted in anger, unreasonable anger, a few hours before!

Oh, the terrible torrent of remorse that passed through the widow's mind, while, with trembling steps, she hurried to find a light, and then returned to look on what she believed to be Effie's corpse. And oh, what joy to see one blue eye unclose, and then to hear a faint sigh! To know that she was spared a terrible trial, and a life-time of bitter self-upbraidings!

The real truth was that Effie had swooned from the effects of fright. She had lain awake all those long hours, feeling sad and miserable, weary of solitude, and compelled still to bear it until sleep should bring forgetfulness. At length the dim rays of the young moon had just sufficed to show a dark figure stealing noiselessly towards her bed. Her mother never came thus, she thought; and dreading some evil, the poor child became senseless from very terror, her over-wrought nerves being unable to withstand its effects.

When little Effie recovered her senses, she could scarcely think they told her truly, for she was resting in her mother's arms; warm tears were falling on her cheeks, and endearing words sounding in her ears. It was the beginning of a new life of love and confidence between the mother and her child, and Effie had in the end little cause to regret her sorrowful Saturday afternoon, and her terror at sight of the dark figure stealing towards her bed in the dim moonlight.

To Mrs. Elwood, the widow confided the experiences of that still evening hour, when visions of unheeded mercy rose one after another to her mental vision, "How wonderfully God deals with us," said she. "Little did I think, when you came to ask my poor Effie to be your guest, and found her in trouble about a few baby treasures, that the words you then spoke would raise such a train of thought, and be, by God's blessing, the means of opening my eyes to my unthankfulness.

"Yes," continued Mrs. Henderson; "I can now say the words I never thought I should school my heart into agreeing with: 'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; and blessed be the name of the Lord;' yea, doubly blessed for all He still leaves me. May I be taught daily to own His goodness and my own unworthiness, and, while thanking Him for every gift, still own that I and all I have are in the Lord's hands, 'Let Him do what seemeth Him good,' both with me and mine."

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