"Why Nell," said Julia, "do you mean heaven?"
"Do you not think that is Mr. Rhys's home?"
"I haven't thought much about it at all," said Julia laying her head down on Eleanor's shoulder. "You see, nobody talked to me ever since he went away; and mamma talks everything else."
"Come here in the mornings, and we'll talk about it," said Eleanor. Her voice was a little husky.
"Shall we?" said Julia rousing up again. "But Eleanor, what are your eyes full for? Did you love Mr. Rhys too?"
It was an innocent question; but instead of answering, Eleanor turned again to the window. She sat with her hand pressed upon her mouth, while the full eyes brimmed and ran over, and filled again; and drop after drop plashed upon the window-sill. It was impossible to help it, for that minute; and Julia looked on wonderingly.
"O Nell," she repeated almost awe-struck, "what is it? What has made you sorry too? – " But she had to wait a little while for her answer.
"He was a good friend to me," said Eleanor at last, wiping her eyes; "and I suppose it is not very absurd to cry for a friend that is gone, that one will never see again."
"Maybe he will come back some time," said Julia sorrowfully.
"Not while there is work there for him to do," said Eleanor. She waited a little while. There was some difficulty in going on. When she did speak her tone was clear and firm.
"Julia, shall we follow the Lord as Mr. Rhys does?"
"How?"
"By doing whatever Jesus gives us to do."
"What has he given us to do?" said Julia.
"If you come to my room in the mornings, we will read and find out. And we will pray, and ask to be taught."
Julia's countenance lightened and clouded with alternate changes.
"Will you, Eleanor! But what have we got to do?"
"Love Jesus."
"Well I – O I did use to, Eleanor! and I think I do now; only I have forgotten to think about anything, this ever so long."
"Then if we love him, we shall find plenty of things to do for him."
"What, Eleanor? I would like to do something."
"Just whatever he gives us, Julia. Come, darling, – have you not duties?"
"Duties?"
"Have you not things that it is your duty to do? – or not to do?"
"Studies!" said Julia. "But I don't like them."
"For Jesus' sake?"
Julia burst into tears. Eleanor's tone was so loving and gentle, it reached the memories that had been slumbering.
"How can I do them for him, Eleanor?" she asked, half perversely still.
"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' So he has told us."
"But my studies, Eleanor? how can I?"
"Who gave you the opportunity, Julia?"
"Well – I know."
"Well, if God has given you the opportunity, do you think he means it for nothing? He has work for you to do, Julia, some time, for which you will want all these things that you have a chance of learning now; if you miss the chance, you will certainly not be ready for the work."
"Why, Eleanor! – that's funny."
"What is it?"
"Why I never thought of such a thing."
"What did you think?"
"I thought I had French and German to study, for instance, because everybody else learned French and German. I did not think there was any use in it."
"You forgot who had given you them to learn."
"No, mamma would have it. Just her notion. Papa didn't care."
"But dear Julia, you forget who has made it your duty to please mamma's notions. And you forget who it is that has given you your place in the world. You might have been born in poverty, with quite other lessons to learn, and quite other work in the world."
"You talk just as queer as if you were Mr. Rhys himself," said Julia. "I never heard of such things. Do you suppose all the girls who are learning French and German at school – all the girls in England – have the same sort of work to do? that they will want it for?"
"No, not all the same. But God never gives the preparation without the occasion."
"Then suppose they do not make the preparation?"
"Then when the occasion comes, they will not be ready for it. When their work is given them to do, they will be found wanting."
"It's so queer!" said Julia.
"What?"
"To think such things about lessons."
"You may think such things about everything. Whatever God gives you, he gives you to use in some way for him."
"But how can I possibly know how, Eleanor?"
"Come to me in the mornings, and you and I will try to find out."
"Did you say, I must please all mamma's notions?"
"Certainly – all you can."
"But I like papa's notions a great deal better than mamma's."
"You must try to meet both," said Eleanor smiling.
"I do not like a great many of mamma's notions. I don't think there is any sense in them."
"But God likes obedience, Julia. He has bid you honour mamma and papa.
Do it for him."
"Do you mean to please all mamma's notions?" said Julia sharply.
"All that I can, certainly."
"Well it is one of her notions that Mr. Carlisle should get you to the Priory after all. Are you going to let her? Are you going to let him, I mean?"
"No."
"Then if it is your duty to please mamma's notions, why mustn't you please this one?"
"Because here I have my duty to others to think of."
"To whom?" said Julia as quick as lightning.
"To myself – and to Mr. Carlisle."
"Mr. Carlisle!" said Julia. "I'll be bound he thinks your duty to him would make you do whatever he likes."
"It happens that I take a different view of the subject."
"But Eleanor, what work do you suppose I have to do in the world, that
I shall want French and German for? real work, I mean?"
"I can't tell. But I know now you have a beautiful example to set?"
"Of what? learning my lessons well?"
"Of whatever is lovely and of good report. Of whatever will please
Jesus."
Julia put her arms round her sister's neck and hid her face there.
"I am going to give you a word to remember to-day; keep it with you, dear. 'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' Just think of that, whether you are busy or not busy. And we will ask the Lord to make us so full of his love, that we cannot help it."
They knelt and prayed together; after which Julia gave her sister a great many earnest caresses; and they went down to breakfast a much comforted pair.
CHAPTER V
IN LONDON
"London makes mirth! but I know God hears
The sobs i' the dark, and the dropping of tears."
The