IT was a very happy party that might have been seen forming a group on the sands, on the afternoon of the day that had been one of such glad surprise for Dora.
Mrs. Hilton was always a favorite with young people, and even Constance who, as a rule, was not easily pleased, found an opportunity of telling Dora, her mother was real kind; while Harry and Eva were agreed that auntie was a proper sort of aunt, and they were very glad she had come.
Eva's castle was built on a larger and grander scale than the little girl had even ventured to hope. A ground plan of the whole was first drawn by Mrs. Hilton, on a smooth space of fine yellow sand, in the center of which a tower of considerable height was quickly raised. Harry then offered to dig a moat. When deep enough, with Eva's assistance, it was filled with water; a piece of wood, washed up by the tide, doing duty as a drawbridge; while Dora and Constance, who had gathered a quantity of shells and seaweed, laid out the grounds and gardens in such a way as to produce as very pleasing effect.
When all was done they sat down to rest a little, tired it must be owned, but quite ready for what Dora always called a real good talk.
A few rain clouds were in the sky, and Harry looked at them from time to time, with something very like a shade of trouble on his bright young face. At last, turning to Mrs. Hilton, he said, "I shouldn't wonder if we have a wet day to-morrow, and I do so want it to be fine all the time we are at Sandrock. I do not want to see one drop of rain—Do you, aunt?”
Mrs. Hilton smiled as she answered gently, “I am not going to spoil the pleasure of to-day, Harry, by fretting because it may rain to-morrow. I shall be quite sure that each tiny raindrop is a messenger sent by God on some errand of mercy, for the shower and the sunshine come from the same wise and loving hand.
“But perhaps you would like to hear the true story of a man who had learned to trust God so fully that, in very difficult and trying circumstances, he was able to look up in childlike faith and love and say, 'It is all for the best.’”
Harry forgot all about the clouds in an instant, and jumping up in great delight, he exclaimed, "A story. Oh, girls, aunt is going to tell us a story, Please begin just now, we will be all attention.”
So Mrs. Hilton wisely forebore trying the patience of her young listeners, and began her story by saying, “As Bernard Gilpin, about whom Harry wants so much to hear, lived more than two hundred years ago, I must try and explain to you a few of the ways in which England, at the time of which I am going to tell you, differed from England as we know and see it.
“People who wished to go from one place to another never thought of doing so by means of steamboats or railway carriage. Rich people took long journeys on horseback, or in strange-looking, uncomfortable carriages; while the poor seldom went further from their own homes than they were able to travel on foot. Schools, too, were few and far between, and though the sons of gentlemen were often well educated, the children of the poor, or even of what we now call the middle class, were left almost without books or teachers.
“But I have not told you the saddest thing of all yet. There were very few Bibles in the land, and so far from wishing her subjects to love and value the word of God, Queen Mary, who at that time reigned over England, did all in her power to prevent that blessed book from being in the homes and hands of English people.
“The day was indeed a dark and sorrowful one, yet there were gleams of gospel light. The Lord had not left Himself without witnesses. And few, perhaps, stood more firmly for Christ than Bernard Gilpin, the rector of a parish in Yorkshire called Houghton-le-Spring. His was no idle, aimless life. His one desire seemed to be to tell others of the Savior he had found, and so he preached the gospel, visited the sick, taught the children, looked after orphan boys, receiving them into his own house; and not content with the work that lay so near to him, frequently rode long rough rides over the hills to far-away villages or thinly-peopled hamlets where, but for his loving, faithful work, the people might never have heard of Christ.
More than once Gilpin had received a letter from one of his uncles, who was a bishop, and very often in London, telling him to be careful, or his long preaching journeys and simple Bible teaching would get him into trouble with the Queen. What was he to do? After earnest prayer he made up his mind to trust in God, and go quietly on with his work.
“His copy of the Bible was not quite the same as the one we use, called the Authorized Version, which was not printed till nearly fifty years after.
“Bernard Gilpin's favorite verse, Rom. 8:2828And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28), read thus in his Bible: All things work for the best to them that love God, which also are called of his purpose.'
“'It is all for the best' had been the motto of his life. He had borne the sweet message to many tried and suffering ones, and the time when he should stand in need of the comforts and strength the word of God alone can give was drawing very near.
“The storm, that had been long gathering, broke at last, when a party of soldiers, wearing the Queen's uniform, might have been seen on their way up the rough road that led to Mr. Gilpin's house. The captain carried a sealed letter, which soon proved to be an order, signed by Queen Mary, commanding Bernard Gilpin to appear in London, and there answer certain charges that had been brought against him.
“He lived in martyr times, and for the moment he must have shrunk from the thought of the possible suffering and even the cruel death in which that journey to London might end. But it was only for a moment. Turning to the officer, he answered, 'It is all for the best. I am ready to accompany you, and have but one favor to ask. As the poor people among whom I have labored for several years have a great affection for me, do not compel me to set out on my journey till dusk, as I shall then be spared the pain of saying farewell to them, and they the temptation of seeking to deliver me from your hands and thus resisting the authority of the Queen, who is our lawful sovereign.'
“As the soldiers were by no means sorry to have a few hours' rest, permission was readily given, and late in the afternoon of the same day the little household at the parsonage assembled with sad hearts to see their much-loved master depart on a journey from which they hardly dared to hope he, would ever return.
“The snows of winter in some parts of the road made traveling not only slow but dangerous work, and quite half the journey still lay before Bernard Gilpin, when one frosty morning his horse stumbled and fell, crushing one leg of its rider in such a manner that it was, on examination, found to be badly broken. Quite unable to continue his journey, he was carried to a wayside inn, and a doctor sent for. Setting the injured limb gave great pain; the next morning poor Gilpin was so ill that it was decided he must rest for a week or two.
“Do you think your broken leg is for the best?' the soldier, who kept guard in his room, asked him one day.
“Yes, friend, it is all for the best,' was the answer, spoken in a bright, cheerful voice from the bed of pain. Though my poor sight is all too dim to see how it is best for me to lie here, yet it would ill become me to doubt or question what my Lord has told me in His blessed word.'
“And so the days passed slowly on. Already their journey had been delayed three weeks, and as Mr. Gilpin, though still far from strong, began to show signs of improvement, it was decided that on the morrow he should again set out for London. The officer, who had been absent for a few hours, returned. One look at his face told Gilpin that he was the bearer of important news. Making a low bow, he said respectfully, ‘Never, sir, did you speak a truer word than when you told me your broken leg was for the best. Under God it has made you a free man. During my absence to-day I received certain news of the death of Queen Mary, and her half-sister, the Princess Elizabeth, who is the next heir to the crown, is, I have heard, of your way of thinking, and I might get but small thanks for taking you to London as my prisoner; so you are at liberty to return to Houghton-le-Spring, where I know many will give you a hearty welcome.'
“And so in His own gracious way God delivered His servant. The news that the friend they loved so well was at liberty and on his way home reached Houghton-le-Spring before Mr. Gilpin, and rich and poor, high and low, went out to meet him, and standing in the midst of his beloved people he led them in a short simple service of praise and prayer.”
Harry jumped up and clapped his hands with delight. "O aunt, I like your story so much," he said eagerly, "I could not see at first how it could be best for Mr. Gilpin to break his leg and have to suffer so much pain; but it was plain enough after Queen Mary's death, was it not?”
Yes, Harry; and though in the way our heavenly Father sometimes deals with His children there may be many things we cannot understand, it is always safe for us to trust His unchanging love, knowing that if we are Christians we are called 'to walk by faith and not by sight.'
“But the lengthening shadows remind us it is time for tea, Dora, and I will walk on while you collect your spades and pails and try how soon you can overtake us.”
And here we must say good-bye, for a time at least, to Dora Hilton. Her life lessons are as yet far from being all learned, but while her own felt weakness is casting her more simply on the strong for strength, her desire and prayer are that clearly and brightly her light may shine for Christ.
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