MARY'S LIFE AT EICHBOURG
WHEN THE COUNTRYSIDE WAS ONCE more covered with verdure and flowers, the Count and his family left the capital, and went to Eichbourg. Mary accompanied them and occupied her usual place in the carriage by the Countess Amelia's side. They arrived at Eichbourg about sunset. Mary felt deeply as she saw each well-known spot appear again in succession; she remembered the sad morning when she had left them weeping, and she thanked the Lord with all her heart for His wonderful dealings with her. How little she expected to see this dear home again, and still less to see it as she now did with the young Countess by her side! "How can I ever thank God," thought she, "for all His goodness towards me! 'Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits."
When the carriage stopped at the door of the castle, the old servants, as well as the workpeople employed by the Count, were assembled to receive the family with all due honor. Everyone present welcomed Mary with pleasure, and some ventured to congratulate her on her good fortune.
The old judge had heard of the arrival of the family, and he hastened to be among the first to welcome the Count, that he might have an opportunity of seeing Mary also and telling her how deeply grieved he was to have been the guiltless instrument of her undeserved sufferings.
That night Mary could not sleep, for joy sometimes banishes sleep as well as sorrow. Early in the morning she rose, and before any of the inhabitants of the castle were awake, she set off alone to visit her old house.
Even at this early hour she met many well-known old friends, and she recognized some of the smiling young faces of the children who used to linger round her garden gate to receive a bunch of flowers. They all looked delighted to see her again, though some of them were so grown that she scarcely knew them. Near the gate of the well-remembered garden she saw the old farmer and his wife, who came joyfully to meet her and welcomed her with much cordiality to her home.
"Formerly," said the old man, "when you were without a shelter, we received you under our roof; and now that we have been in a manner turned out of our home, you have given us this pleasant cottage, where we may enjoy peace and comfort in our old age."
"Yes, yes," said his wife; "one never knows how one may be rewarded for a good turn done to a neighbor."
"Come, come, wife," said the farmer, "you know we did not do it with the hope of a reward. However, the apostle's exhortation has become true in our case: 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares' (Heb. 13:22Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. (Hebrews 13:2)). You have been truly an angel of mercy to us, Mary. None should ever forget the command, 'Use hospitality one to another without grudging' (1 Peter 4:99Use hospitality one to another without grudging. (1 Peter 4:9))."
Mary went into the cottage with the old couple, but the sight of the home of her childhood, the corner where her father used to sit, and a number of familiar objects still remaining in the cottage, awakened such sad recollections that she could scarcely command her feelings. She went into the garden and visited every spot which she had loved and cared for so long and wept at the sight of her father's favorite trees.
At length she sat down in the very arbor that used to be James's oratory—the place where so many of his precious lessons were given. Here she recovered her composure. The remembrance of many of her father's lessons came fresh upon her mind and raised her thoughts above the earth to the heaven which was now his home. She could not mourn for him so bitterly when she remembered how long he had been prepared and waiting for his removal above, and when she recalled to mind how often his face had beamed with rapture when he spoke to her of the heavenly inheritance, the garden of the Lord above, and of the blessedness of leaving the world, and going to be with Christ, which is far better.
These recollections soothed Mary's grief; she would not have been selfish enough to call back her beloved father, even if she could have done it. She breathed an inward prayer in the accustomed spot, where she had prayed so often that it seemed almost hallowed ground; and then, taking a kind leave of the old farmer and his wife, she returned to the castle with a serene and quiet spirit.
As long as Mary lived she spent some weeks every spring at the castle, cherished and honored by everyone there, and endearing herself to the people of the village, particularly to the children, among whom she was a great favorite. Her delight was to take them apart and talk to them of the Savior, and she had the happiness of believing that many of them under her instructions gave their hearts to God.