The Man from Glengarry: A Tale of the OttawaConnor, Ralph
History
The Man from Glengarry: A Tale of the Ottawa
Connor, Ralph
Canada -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Christian fiction; Glengarry (Ont.) -- Fiction
The tears could no longer be denied. She put her head in her aunt's lap
and sobbed out her heart's overflow. For an hour they sat by the open
trunk, forgetting all about the packing, while her aunt talked to Maimie
as no one had ever talked to her before; and often, through the long
years of suffering that followed, the words of that evening came to
Maimie to lighten and to comfort an hour of fear and sorrow. Mrs. Murray
was of those to whom it is given to speak words that will not die with
time, but will live, for that they fall from lips touched with the fire
of God.
Before they had finished their talk Harry came in, and then Mrs. Murray
told them about their mother, of her beauty and her brightness and her
goodness, but mostly of her goodness.
“She was a dear, dear girl,” said their aunt, “and her goodness was of
the kind that makes one think of a fresh spring morning, so bright,
so sweet, and pure. And she was beautiful, too. You will be like her,
Maimie,” and, after a pause, she added, softly, “And, most of all, she
loved her Saviour, and that was the secret of both her beauty and her
goodness.”
“Auntie,” said Harry, suddenly, “don't you think you could come to us
for a visit? It would do father--I mean it would be such a great thing
for father, and for me, too, for us all.”
Mrs. Murray thought of her home and all its ties, and then said,
smiling: “I am afraid, Harry, that could hardly be. Besides, my dear
boy, there is One who can always be with you, and no one can take His
place.”
“All the same, I wish you could come,” said Harry. “When I am here I
feel like doing something with my life, but at home I only think of
having fun.”
“But, Harry,” said his aunt, “life is a very sacred and very precious
thing, and at all costs, you must make it worthy of Him who gave it to
you.”
Next morning, when Harry was saying “Farewell” to his aunt, she put her
arms round him, and said: “Your mother would have wished you to be a
noble man, and you must not disappoint her.”
“I will try, auntie,” he said, and could say no more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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