REFUGE.
It was a lovely Saturday evening on Glashgar.The few flowers about the small turf cottage scented the air in the hot western sun.The heather was not in bloom yet, and there were no trees; but there were rocks, and stones, and a brawling burn that half surrounded a little field of oats, one of potatoes, and a small spot with a few stocks of cabbage and kail, on the borders of which grew some bushes of double daisies, and primroses, and carnations.These Janet tended as part of her household, while her husband saw to the oats and potatoes.Robert had charge of the few sheep on the mountain which belonged to the farmer at the Mains, and for his trouble had the cottage and the land, most of which he had himself reclaimed.
He had also a certain allowance of meal, which was paid in portions, as corn went from the farm to the mill.If they happened to fall short, the miller would always advance them as much as they needed, repaying himself--and not very strictly--the next time the corn was sent from the Mains.They were never in any want, and never had any money, except what their children brought them out of their small wages.But that was plenty for their every need, nor had they the faintest feeling that they were persons to be pitied.
It was very cold up there in winter, to be sure, and they both suffered from rheumatism; but they had no debt, no fear, much love, and between them, this being mostly Janet's, a large hope for what lay on the other side of death: as to the rheumatism, that was necessary, Janet said, to teach them patience, for they had no other trouble.They were indeed growing old, but neither had begun to feel age a burden yet, and when it should prove such, they had a daughter prepared to give up service and go home to help them.
Their thoughts about themselves were nearly lost in their thoughts about each other, their children, and their friends.Janet's main care was her old man, and Robert turned to Janet as the one stay of his life, next to the God in whom he trusted.He did not think so much about God as she: he was not able; nor did he read so much of his Bible; but she often read to him; and when any of his children were there of an evening, he always "took the book." While Janet prayed at home, his closet was the mountain-side, where he would kneel in the heather, and pray to Him who saw unseen, the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God.The sheep took no heed of him, but sometimes when he rose from his knees and saw Oscar gazing at him with deepest regard, he would feel a little as if he had not quite entered enough into his closet, and would wonder what the dog was thinking.All day, from the mountain and sky and preaching burns, from the sheep and his dog, from winter storms, spring sun and winds, or summer warmth and glow, but more than all, when he went home, from the presence and influence of his wife, came to him somehow--who can explain how!--spiritual nourishment and vital growth.One great thing in it was, that he kept growing wiser and better without knowing it.If St.Paul had to give up judging his own self, perhaps Robert Grant might get through without ever beginning it.He loved life, but if he had been asked why, he might not have found a ready answer.He loved his wife--just because she was Janet.Blithely he left his cottage in the morning, deep breathing the mountain air, as if it were his first in the blissful world; and all day the essential bliss of being was his; but the immediate hope of his heart was not the heavenly city; it was his home and his old woman, and her talk of what she had found in her Bible that day.Strangely mingled--mingled even to confusion with his faith in God, was his absolute trust in his wife--a confidence not very different in kind from the faith which so many Christians place in the mother of our Lord.To Robert, Janet was one who knew--one who was far ben with the Father of lights.She perceived his intentions, understood his words, did his will, dwelt in the secret place of the Most High.When Janet entered into the kingdom of her Father, she would see that he was not left outside.He was as sure of her love to himself, as he was of God's love to her, and was certain she could never be content without her old man.He was himself a dull soul, he thought, and could not expect the great God to take much notice of him, but he would allow Janet to look after him.He had a vague conviction that he would not be very hard to save, for he knew himself ready to do whatever was required of him.
None of all this was plain to his consciousness, however, or Idaresay he would have begun at once to combat the feeling.
His sole anxiety, on the other hand, was neither about life nor death, about this world nor the next, but that his children should be honest and honourable, fear God and keep his commandments.
Around them, all and each, the thoughts of father and mother were constantly hovering--as if to watch them, and ward off evil.
Almost from the day, now many years ago, when, because of distance and difficulty, she ceased to go to church, Janet had taken to her New Testament in a new fashion.
She possessed an instinctive power of discriminating character, which had its root and growth in the simplicity of her own; she had always been a student of those phases of humanity that came within her ken; she had a large share of that interest in her fellows and their affairs which is the very bloom upon ripe humanity: with these qualifications, and the interpretative light afforded by her own calm practical way of living, she came to understand men and their actions, especially where the latter differed from what might ordinarily have been expected, in a marvellous way: her faculty amounted almost to sympathetic contact with the very humanity.
When, therefore, she found herself in this remote spot, where she could see so little of her kind, she began, she hardly knew by what initiation, to turn her study upon the story of our Lord's life.