CHRISTIANS whom Hannah had met with rallied around her now, and after the remains of her loved husband had been committed to the dust, it was requisite for her to think how she could maintain herself and her child. Her funds were not yet exhausted, and she purposed staying where she was and endeavoring to obtain some pupils, whom she could educate with Rachel; but God purposed otherwise.
After the funeral Hannah's only earthly comfort was the companionship of her child. The evenings were spent together where Hannah and Mark had delighted to sit, and now it was the joy of the mother to read to little Rachel of a Savior's love. She knew her darling would be His, and join her parents in the New Jerusalem; but she little knew through what deep waters the child would pass ere she could say that Jehovah was her Redeemer.
One evening Rachel was sitting with her mother, around whose heart the little maid was entwining herself more and more. Hannah had a heavy sorrow pressing on her now, and her faith in the God of her fathers was to be tested. Hannah, when her earthly prop was taken from her, comforted herself with the thought that she was left to protect her child; but now she was conscious of the fact that her earthly course was well-nigh over, and that her darling child would be an orphan. Her father and her mother both had gone to that "Better Land." All her relatives still held the Jewish faith, and to whom could she leave her little one? Her feelings, long pent up, now burst forth into a passionate fit of weeping. At last, however, this subsided, and she could calmly leave her darling to the all-wise Creator.
Hannah had been thinking that if she could leave her child to some Christian friend, all would be well; but God had other means whereby the lamb was to be brought into the fold.
How often are our plans frustrated! It was not His will to place Rachel in the hands of Christians, but to send her to her grandfather's house. Ways and means are nothing to Him when He has a purpose in view.
Tea was over, and Hannah was seated in an easy chair, propped up with pillows. Rachel was sitting at the French window opening on the verandah, where sweet-smelling flowers, lately watered by the little girl, were sending forth their sweet fragrance to the invalid. The crescent moon was shedding her silver sheen on the pretty lawn in front, and throwing a mellow light through the rustling trees. Rachel was old enough to remember, and she never forgot, the last evening she spent in that room with her darling mother. Hannah told her to go into the next room for a packet. The child obeyed, and quickly returned. It contained a pocket Bible (the last gift she now bestowed on her child), also the address of a gentleman, of whom we shall hear more later on. Hannah told Rachel to put them both carefully away. The mother knew she could not leave the child a better gift than her Bible. It was a chart that would lead her safely through the tangled mazes of life. When that mother's spirit had winged its flight to the mansions above, the precious words in that volume spoke peace to Rachel's soul, and nerved her to contend for the true faith of her fathers amidst much persecution and strife.
Hannah at last told Rachel that she was going to leave her, that God would take care of her, and she must believe that Jesus had loved her and had died for her, and by-and-by He would take her up to be with Himself, where she would again see her dear parents. Hannah thought it right to tell her child all this, that the blow of separation might not come so heavily upon her. The dear child sobbed until her heart was well-nigh broken. She flung her arms around her mother's neck, and clung to her. This was too much for Hannah, she sobbed too; but nature was relieved. She commended her darling to the God of her fathers, to Him whom none trust in vain.
“God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
“Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
"Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take—
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.”
Hannah and Rachel never more safe there together. The former was not able to leave her room the next day; but Rachel was her constant nurse. Her mother requested her to read the fourteenth chapter of St. John: “Let not your heart be troubled ... . Ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions.”
Hannah then sang in measured strains:
“Now I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies;
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.”
There was her child, and she knew not how she was going to be cared for; but she knew Who was going to care for her. Jehovah had bidden her to leave her fatherless child to Him, and she was now enabled to do so.
She had attending on her a bright, worm-hearted, intelligent girl, who had come with her from her native land, and at the present moment she seemed the only one to whom Hannah could leave Rachel. She, however, calmly rested in her Father's arms; and that evening, at 8 p.m., her happy spirit winged its flight to the mansions of the blest. She never knew whom God intended to be the guard of her child. How many there are left as orphans, none but the gentle Savior to care for them; and often these little friendless ones are far better off than when they had their earthly protectors. He can open the hearts of all for the tender lambs. Would that there were many more ready to help Him in caring for the friendless ones!
About ten minutes ere Hannah passed away, Isaac Barnard appeared at the door. Martha answered the summons, and showed the visitor into the room of her dying mistress. She was, however, too near the eternal world to be cognizant of his presence, and after Isaac saw her spirit pass away, he bowed his head and sobbed aloud. He saw the calm, peaceful, handsome face, and thought, "Would that I had been acquainted with her in life!" He did not wonder that his son had loved that face which he now saw fixed in death. He had, however, in the short time that had elapsed since he had first read God's wonderful words of life, known more by their perusal in secret than is known in a lifetime among hundreds of Gentiles. He had learned that he would meet his dear son again; and as to his wife, he dared not think— that he must leave to the all-wise Creator.
Isaac's sobs were at last hushed by the sound of sobs coming from behind the curtains, from one he had not yet seen. Little Rachel had hidden there at the sight of her grandfather He was a man of medium height, with curling raven black hair. He had all the appearance of a son of Abraham. He was about fifty years of age. Isaac, in his trouble, rose to find out what these sobs meant.
He had never known of his son's child, and when he beheld her, with the face and expression the same as his boy's, he waited not to ask a question, but clasped the child to his breast, nor did he part with her till her tears were dried and her little breaking heart comforted.
Children always find out who has sympathy with them, even when they do not know what that word means.
She did not need to be told who was her friend. She had often seen the photograph of her grandfather. He led her into the pretty sitting-room, where she had so recently been with her darling mother, and where Martha had prepared a homely meal. Isaac thought it right to partake of some refreshment, and to tempt the little one to take some also; and there, on her grandfather's knee, Rachel was soothed and fed like an infant; and at last she dropped off into the sweet sleep of Childhood.
Isaac had never felt so happy as now. He had found, in his hour of loneliness, one upon whom he could bestow his love, and one in whom he could, in a measure, compensate his boy for all the sorrow he had caused him. God never lays more upon us than He will enable us to bear.
Isaac tenderly delivered up his little grandchild to her attendant, and then sought rest for himself.
The next morning he had an interview with Mons. F.—, a member of that little
Christian band, whose meetings Hannah had attended. He had called to take Rachel to his home, to train with his own children; but God had willed otherwise. The time of the funeral was settled, and all arrangements made. Isaac thought that the sooner he took Rachel from these scenes the better.
On a lovely morning the funeral cortege started for the cemetery. Many followed in the train, once known to Hannah, and who would meet her again in the heavenly Canaan. Isaac and Rachel were the chief mourners—the Jew and the little Jewess were comforters of one another. At last the body of Hannah was borne into the cemetery. All was new to Isaac. He had never till now been at any Christian service. The body rested in the little chapel. A Christian man read. 1 Corinthians 15 then gave out that hymn to be sung:—
"Forever with the Lord,
Amen, so let it be.
Life from the dead is in that word,
'Tis immortality.”
Then after a prayer the remains were committed to the dust. Isaac knew the French language, but was not so fully conversant with it as to understand every word of the beautiful hymn he had before him in the hymn-book that had been passed to him.
The mourners returned to their home, but only for a few days. Isaac made all arrangements in a very short time, and at last that spot which had been the scene of so much joy and sorrow was left behind, never more to be looked upon by sire and grandchild.
To Rachel's joy, Martha was to be her constant attendant. Everything was new to her. Childhood has its feelings, but fresh scenes and fresh faces soon efface the memory of the past. She was occupied with all the pretty scenes through which she passed. Isaac delighted to point out every object of interest.
At last they arrived in Paris. To the little Rachel's eyes nothing had ever appeared so beautiful. The Channel was crossed, and she, with her grandfather was soon in the suburbs of the great city, and mounted the steps of the same house that her departed father had descended to go into the unknown future; but he was now in a nobler mansion in a brighter sphere.