CHAPTER VII

BERYL GAINS A FRIEND

BERYL had to wait for some minutes before she could speak to the stranger, whose words had so interested her.

The gentleman was not unaware of the little figure waiting patiently beside him; but many persons were just then claiming his attention, and he thought it best not to speak to the child till he was at leisure to hear all that she might have to say. One by one the strange congregation dispersed, and, having said the last good-bye, he turned to meet Beryl's upturned glance.

"Well, my dear," he said, noting with pleasure the pretty flushed face and soft blue eyes of the child; "I saw you listening to me just now. What is your name, if you do not mind telling me?"

"Beryl Hollys. We live at Egloshayle House. I dare say you know my papa," said Beryl, displaying some consciousness of her own importance.

"Yes, I have heard of your father since I have been at Egloshayle," the stranger replied. "So your name is Beryl—a precious stone. Well, my child, you must make your name good. You must be a precious stone in the living temple. I heard you say you were willing to be a child of the kingdom."

"Yes, if I can be; but I do not know how," said Beryl.

"No one can more easily enter the kingdom, my child. The kingdom is yours. Don't you remember that Jesus said, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven'? You have only to come to Jesus."

Beryl knew the words well. Lucy had taught them to her when she was a little girl; but now they seemed to her quite new, as their meaning suddenly flashed upon her mind.

"But how can I come?" she said.

"My child, you can come to Jesus at any moment. He is ever near you. He loves you even better than your father does. You can lift your heart to Him, and tell Him you will be His."

"But," said Beryl, with a touch of impatience in her tone, "there are so many things I want to know, and I have no one to tell me. I want to know what the resurrection means. I asked papa, but he only said I should understand when I was older. But I want to understand now."

The gentleman looked at her in surprise.

"What set you thinking about the resurrection, my dear?" he asked.

"It is on mamma's grave," said Beryl, "'I believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.'"

"Ah, to be sure," he replied, "I remember seeing those words in the churchyard. And that was your mother's grave, my little friend? You want to know what that long word resurrection means?"

"Yes; will you tell me?" asked Beryl eagerly, sure that he could tell her, if only he would.

The gentleman was silent for a minute, thinking how he could put in simplest words what he knew of the great mystery of the resurrection.

"Beryl," he said gently, "do you know that Jesus said, 'I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die'?"

"Yes," said Beryl, "I know; I found those words in the Bible."

"Well, my child, that word resurrection means life from the dead, a returning from the grave, as it were."

"But no one ever does return from the grave," said Beryl, her face full of wonder and awe.

"Jesus returned from the grave," said her new friend. "Do you not remember? You know that Jesus died?"

"Yes," said Beryl softly; "He was God's Son, and He died on the cross."

"And after He was dead they laid Him in the grave, a grave made in the rock, and a great stone was rolled to the mouth of the grave to make it secure. But Jesus could not be the prisoner of death. The Lord of Life rose from the dead, and when the women who loved Him came to weep beside the grave, they found the stone rolled away, and the place where He had lain empty. Then Jesus appeared to Mary and the other disciples, the very same Jesus whom they had known and loved and mourned as dead. And the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord, and knew that He had conquered death. And so Jesus is the Resurrection, the Life from the Dead, because having conquered Death Himself, He can promise the same victory to all who trust in Him. He has the keys of Death. Our dead are in His keeping, and He will raise them up at the last day. Can you understand me, my child?"

"Yes, I think so," said Beryl, but still looking puzzled. "But where do people go when they die? Where is my mamma? Where is Coral's papa?"

"Many have asked such questions as those, my child, but they cannot yet be answered; we must wait for fuller knowledge. All we know is that our dead have passed into a region which is under the control of Christ. They are safe in His keeping. His voice it was which called them from earth, and His voice it is which will call them forth on the morning of the resurrection. 'Them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him.'"

"But when will that be?" asked Beryl.

"We know not. The Lord has not revealed the time of His appearing; only we must seek to be ready for His coming," said the stranger. "But I am afraid I am keeping you too long, my child. Is that your nurse who is beckoning to you so energetically?"

"Yes, that is Lucy," said Beryl; "and Coral is with her. Won't you come and speak to Coral?"

"Who is Coral?" asked the gentleman. "Your little sister?"

"Oh no," said Beryl quickly; "but she is going to live with me, and be like my little sister."

And then, in hurried words, she told the story of the shipwreck—of Coral's and her mother's rescue—and of her father's sad fate.

The gentleman listened with interest to the child's account, though he had already heard all particulars of the shipwreck. Then, pitying the impatience which Lucy manifested, he crossed the beach to where she and Coral stood, and proposed that as he was about to return to the village, they should all walk back together.

The children were very pleased with their new companion, and chattered fast to him as they passed through the fields. When they reached the stone bench at the top of the hill, the gentleman paused and looked round.

"Look, children," he said, and they all turned to look.

The sight was indeed worth a long gaze. The sun was sinking in the west, and its crimson light flushed the water. A bank of purple clouds lay on the horizon, and where they parted the ruddy rays broke forth in glorious beauty. The whole sky caught the illumination, and the tiny clouds which floated overhead were of a delicate rose-colour.

"How pretty the sky is!" said little Coral. "It was often like that when we were in the ship. Papa used to take me on deck to look at it."

"It will be a fine day to-morrow," said Lucy; "it always is when the sun goes down red."

Beryl said nothing, but gazed in silence on the beauty of the sky. She could not have explained what she thought of it, but somehow, in the child's mind, the glory of that sunset was entwined with her idea of the kingdom of heaven. It was indeed a symbol of the happy death unto sin and new birth unto righteousness by which we enter into the kingdom of God.

They watched till the sun sank into his grave, which yet was no grave, and the pink clouds grew grey in the fading light. Then Lucy and Coral went on, and Beryl and her new friend followed. When they reached the village street, he said he must bid her good-bye.

"But I shall see you again some day, shall I not?" asked Beryl wistfully.

"Yes, my child, I hope so. I shall be at Egloshayle a few weeks longer; and, Beryl, if your father should wish to know my name, you can tell him I am David Gilbank, and I am staying at the Blue Anchor for a while, in order to do some sketching."

"David Gilbank," said Beryl. "Yes, I shall not forget. Good-bye."

And she bounded away to overtake Lucy, eager to tell her father, or any one who would listen to her, of the new friend she had gained. But her father was not to be found when she reached home, and she learned, to her vexation, that he had gone out.

Miss Hollys, as usual at that hour, was reclining on the sofa in the drawing-room; but when Beryl burst in, eager to tell all that had happened, her aunt, annoyed at her intrusion, showed no sympathy for the enthusiasm with which Beryl spoke of her new friend.

She chose to consider it an occasion for fault-finding, and scolded Beryl for being so ready to make acquaintance with an utter stranger, who was not likely to prove a desirable person to know.

Beryl received her aunt's rebukes more patiently than was her wont. The recollection of her resolve to be a child of the kingdom helped her to refrain from a rude and angry retort.

Later in the evening, when the children went to Mrs. Despard's room to bid her good-night, Beryl found the sympathy for which she longed.

Mrs. Despard was sitting up, and looking much better, Beryl thought, because a bright crimson spot burnt in each cheek, and her eyes were large and brilliant. She began to question the children about their walk, and soon heard all that Beryl could tell her of the stranger whose name was David Gilbank.

"I wish you could have heard what he said," the child cried eagerly; "he was speaking about the kingdom of God, and oh! He made it all so plain—how God is our Father and our King, and we must all be children of the kingdom. And I am going to be a child of the kingdom; I said that I would!"

"Ah, it is easy for the young," sighed Mrs. Despard; "but I have never thought much of religion, and now I fear the door of that kingdom is closed against me."

"But Jesus is the door," said Beryl. "David Gilbank said so; he told me to come to Jesus, who said,—'Suffer little children to come unto Me.' But then you are not a little child; I forgot that. I don't know what you must do."

"No, I do not know what I can do," was the sad response.

"But the kingdom is for men and women too. He said that; so I do not see why you should not come, although you are not a little child," observed Beryl. "If I were you, I should ask Jesus to let me in."

"Should you?" said the poor woman, wistfully.

"Yes; and oh, I asked him the meaning of the resurrection!" exclaimed Beryl eagerly. "And he explained it all so nicely. But I am afraid I cannot tell you properly what he said. Resurrection means rising from the dead; and as Jesus rose from the dead, so all those who trust in Him shall be raised up at last, although they are dead. But it is very difficult to understand, only it is plain that when we die we shall go to Jesus, and He will take care of us; so you see that there is nothing really to be afraid of in dying."

"Ah, child, it is easy to say so," said Mrs. Despard mournfully; "but I have been such a sinner. I cannot expect that the Lord would receive me."

"But I thought Jesus died for every one, whether they were sinners or not," said Beryl, looking puzzled; "and if any one can go into the kingdom, you can. You've only got to ask Jesus."

How straight to the point went the childish words! Long after Beryl had left her, the sick woman lay pondering them, and adding to them all that she could recollect of what she had learned in her childhood about the Saviour of the world, who by His death upon the cross and His glorious resurrection has redeemed us from the power of sin and death.

When Lucy came in, Mrs. Despard asked her for a Bible, and from that time, as her strength permitted, she daily studied the sacred Book, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, its words brought her life and peace. As she read of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and who died to save His people from their sins, and deliver them from the fear of death, her spirit grew calm and restful. She looked no longer on her sins, but on the Lamb of God, who had taken them away. She could trust in God her Saviour, and trusting in Him with childlike faith, death was robbed of its sting and the grave of its terrors.

Some days passed ere Beryl again saw her friend David Gilbank, for a sudden change in the weather made it unpleasant to saunter on the beach, and quite impossible to sketch in the open air. The advance of spring was checked by biting east winds, which brought showers of sleet and even a slight snowstorm in their train. In place of the bright and joyous Easter which every one had expected, came a cold, inclement season, which would have seemed like Christmas but for the opening buds, and the primroses and violets, which smiled in the face of the cold wind, as if confident that its triumph would be of short duration, and sunshine and beauty would conquer in the end.

To the invalid's failing strength, the cold, raw weather struck a fatal blow. There was a rapid change for the worse, and she sank so low that the doctor gave warning that death might come at any hour.

On Easter Sunday, Beryl went with her father to church, but Coral was left at home in Lucy's care. The day was cold and showery, but every now and then the sun broke through the clouds, and smiled an assurance of better things to come. Beryl watched with pleasure the gleams of sunlight which from time to time lit up the diamond-paned windows, and sent bright shafts of light athwart the dusky old church. She was pleased to see Mr. Gilbank at church. He was looking pale and ill, and was much wrapped up, for the east winds had their perils for him.

Beryl drew her father's attention to the artist, and looked forward to speaking to him when the service ended.

Beryl was able heartily to enjoy that Sunday morning service. The solemn, sweet anthem, the bright, exultant hymns stirred the child's heart. She knew now the significance of Easter Day, with its joyful recognition of a risen Lord. She had learned the meaning of the long word which had puzzled her, and, however faint and imperfect the child's ideas of the resurrection may have been, doubtless she, in her childish simplicity, came nearer to the truth than many of the wise and prudent.

David Gilbank was in the porch as they went out of church, and Beryl addressed him eagerly, and hastened to make her father acquainted with her new friend. Mr. Hollys spoke cordially to the artist, and invited him to come some day to Egloshayle House to see some pictures of which their owner was rather proud.

Beryl was not allowed to go into the sick-room when she returned from church. Mrs. Despard was too ill to see her, Lucy said. But when bed-time came, she as well as Coral was allowed to go into the room to say good-night to the weary sufferer. Even to Beryl's eyes it was clear that a strange, indescribable change had come over the colourless, wasted face. And it was not good-night but good-bye she said to the children, clinging to her poor little Coral with a passionate tenderness which brought tears to the eyes of all who witnessed the farewell.

Some hours later Beryl awoke from her first sleep' to find a candle burning in the room, and Lucy standing by Coral's bed with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"What is the matter, Lucy?" she asked, springing up. "Is Coral's mamma worse?"

"She is gone, poor lady," said Lucy, wiping her eyes; "she passed away in her sleep as gently as possible, and now she looks so peaceful and happy."

"Oh, Lucy, do you mean that she is dead?" said Beryl, in a tone of awe and sorrow.

"Yes, Miss Beryl, it is true; her troubles are over now; but don't make a noise and wake Miss Coral; she will know soon enough, poor dear."

Beryl covered her face with the bed-clothes, and cried bitterly at the thought of little Coral's loss. It seemed so sad and dark and terrible. But even as she cried, and thought of the dark grave and the lonely, motherless life, there came to her mind, with some sense of comfort, the words they had sung that morning in church—

"Jesus lives! Henceforth is death But the gate of life immortal; This shall calm our trembling breath, When we pass its gloomy portal."