Chapter III: The Best Treasure

LONG before Christmas came, Aunt Milly and I had become closely attached to each other. I had learned to love her second only to my parents, and her own words taught me how much she cared for me.

"I shall never part with you for long together, Mildred, if I can help it. Denesfield must always be your home, and I shall give you all the love that I believe every true woman has stored up in her heart ready to be lavished on her children. I have had no children of my own to draw from that store; but you are making me pour out, on you, my long-hidden treasure of affection."

I could hardly reply, for my eyes and my heart were full; but I am sure she did not need words to tell her how warmly my affection was given in return.

Perhaps the fact that my aunt was still a young woman—only thirty-six years of age—and young-hearted, despite her past sorrow, drew us still more closely to each other. She never forgot her own girlish tastes and likings; and whilst often giving me wise advice, she was full of sympathy and consideration for me. She won my entire confidence, not so much by asking for it as by giving me her own.

The days passed quickly. We had, as Aunt Milly expected, plenty of visitors and invitations; and in the village, too, we had become well known both to young and old. My aunt did not wait for papa's coming before commencing her work for the good of the poor people round Denesfield; but she consulted him by letter, and followed his advice as closely as possible.

We were not quite sure he would be with us for Christmas until three days before, and then Aunt Milly, with a bright smile, gave me a letter to read, saying:

"I was right, you will see, dear. You might have spared all your fears and misgivings."

The letter was in my dear mother's hand, for papa was far too busy to write; but it told that they, with the three girls, would be with us on Christmas Eve.

Now I must tell you that, during all the time of my stay at Denesfield—and I had been there nearly three months—I had never either seen or heard a word about Aunt Milly's diamonds. I often caught myself wondering that these costly jewels, so much talked of by others before I came, were not alluded to now by the owner. My aunt spoke of everything else, I thought; but not of these. Perhaps, after all, she had not kept them. During those years of mourning she would not care to wear such things; but still, it would be strange for her to part with her husband's gift.

My curiosity was set at rest on the morning of Christmas Eve, when all was ready for our expected dear ones; and there were only the few last hours to while away before their arrival.

"Come up into my room, Mildred," said my aunt. "When we are expecting very dear friends the hours seem as long as days. I will show you some things that you have not yet seen; and looking at them will occupy a little while."

I followed, saying, "Indeed, Aunt Milly, I do feel eager and restless. As long as there was anything to do in the way of getting ready, I could not move fast enough; but now everything is done."

"Well, Mildred, I am going to show you my diamonds. They have not seen the light for a long time, for they were left at the banker's when my husband and I went abroad; and there they remained until a few days ago, when I had them brought home."

My aunt took out a key, the ring of which she slipped over a flower carved on one of the panels in her room. As she did so a little iron plate flew back, and showed a keyhole, into which my aunt put the key, and on turning it, what I had thought to be a wooden panel moved slowly out, and I found that it was the massive door of an iron safe. Inside were a number of cases; and, taking them out, one after another, she showed me their glittering contents.

I was full of astonishment and delight at the beauty of the gems; and, as Aunt Milly took them out and placed the bracelets on my wrists, the rings on my fingers, and the larger ornaments on neck and hair, I moved about to see their ever-changing hues, and that curious shimmering light which makes them seem almost alive.

"They are very beautiful, Mildred," said my aunt; "and when, sixteen years to-day, my husband gave them to me, I thought I should never be tired of looking at and wearing them. I wore them first on Christmas Day, and for seven Christmas Days after that. Then for eight long years they lay hidden and unused. I almost forgot I possessed them, so absorbed was I with the thought of the treasure of love I had lost. Now, I hope I have learned a better lesson. I believe my treasure is not lost, only laid up amongst my heavenly Father's jewels, to be restored to me again when the summons comes to call me from earth in my turn."

"Do you never mean to wear these again, aunt?" I asked.

"Yes, dear. I intend to wear them to-morrow. I shall try to use all the good gifts that have been bestowed upon me in their season; and I thank God that He has made the world full of beautiful things as well as of useful ones. Now I must lock up these jewels, Mildred, for earthly treasures are a temptation to thieves to break through and steal. What a happy thing that no one can rob us of our heavenly treasures!"

I do not know what possessed me to say, "What are your heavenly treasures, Aunt Milly?"

"My dear, I hope your heart can answer such a question as well as my voice. But I must not forget—you are young; and when I was a girl, I am afraid, I thought more about possessing such things as these diamonds than I did about heavenly riches."

Aunt Milly paused a moment, then she turned her face to me, lighted up with such an expression as I had never seen there before, and said:

"I have a long list, Mildred, all bought for me at a vast cost. There is 'an inheritance, incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away.' A place in one of the 'many mansions'—a welcome into the family of God, whose child I am, through adoption in Christ. Yes, Mildred, Denesfield is fair, but it will crumble and decay; these diamonds glitter, but I look for 'a crown of glory, that fadeth not away,' and a home in 'a city that bath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God.' I can dress here in costly clothing; but what is that to the robes washed, the raiment made white, in the blood of the Lamb? Then there are the beloved friends who are gone before, all kept safely in the same treasure-house."

"My dear," exclaimed Aunt Milly, "if I were to go on speaking for ever so long, how could I tell you all? MY earthly treasures were the purchase and gift of my dear husband, and I must leave them behind when I die. My heavenly ones were bought for me by the precious blood of Jesus, and will be mine for all eternity."

Never while I live shall I forget my aunt's face and words. Never before had I understood, so well as then, the difference between earthly and heavenly things. My aunt, possessing all that earth could give—fair home, glittering gems, costly raiment, obedient servants ready to do her bidding—regarded and used them thankfully, yet counted them as but nothing in comparison with the enduring inheritance of God's children. Her words kept coming into my mind even after the arrival of my father, mother, and sisters had given me something else to think of and to do.