Ian and Maggie walked hand in hand up their favorite little knoll near the house. Their shoes were wet by the time they reached the top, and they were nearly out of breath. But it was always to this place they came when they had a special joy to share.
Indeed, though the stillness surrounding them would hardly have indicated it, they each knew there were multitudes of angels rejoicing with them on this great day for the Duncan clan, when their dear child Allison had been welcomed into the fold of God.
Lady Margaret both rejoiced and wept at the news. Part of her, however, was saddened as well at what had oppressed the girl for so long.
“I knew she was troubled,” she told her husband, “by some of the things she saw in the rest of us. It was clear her resentments and shows of pride were coming from her own insecurity. If only I had been more sensitive, how much pain might have been avoided. The dear child!”
“I won’t have you blame yourself,” Ian gently rebuked. “You did everything God gave you to do. You could hardly sacrifice what He wanted of you in order to shield another from a very necessary pain.”
“How do you mean?”
“The Lord gave to you and Joanna the vision of what serving these people of Strathy means. To you fell the blessing of giving a portion of Stonewycke’s heritage back to them. Allison felt she was supposed to live up to that tradition. But she couldn’t. And therefore she turned that very thing into a false sense of pride that God had to break. You could not have avoided it for her. Your legacy, in a sense, proved the tool in His hands to break through into Allison’s heart.”
“All things do indeed work for good, don’t they, my dear husband?”
“There are many things only He can do. And certainly one of those is knowing a person’s mind and heart, and then doing whatever is necessary to open that heart to His love. Only the Lord could identify that something in Allison—whether it was rebellion or fear or insecurity—made her feel so oppressed by the rest of us. Only God could identify that, and then reach in and heal it.”
“Oh, Ian, I’m so glad she’s whole again! I remember how fresh and clean I felt when at last I released the terrible burden of unforgiveness toward my father. When at last I was able to give it up, even though I was not yet with you, I felt my spirit could soar!”
“I’m glad for her, too. But it will not be easy for her. She is with her father right now on one of the difficult errands God has compelled her to do. You had to forgive your father; she has to ask her father’s forgiveness. And that can sometimes be even harder. I suspect she will want to see you and Joanna next. And that will not be easy for her either.”
“But now she won’t be alone,” added Maggie, as if she were encouraging Allison herself. “With the Lord’s Spirit now inside her, she will have a strength to face such challenges she hasn’t had before.”
“That is exactly what I told her.”
“And a strength to grow into the new nature He has fashioned for her. When I look back on our lives, Ian, I marvel at that very thing—how the Lord gave us such new natures! Do you remember what we were like?”
He laughed. “How could I ever forget? I was so caught up in myself.”
“We both were! And yet here we are, at least in some small measure, beginning to reflect Him. Oh, He has been so good to us!”
They walked along for a while, gradually making their way back down the hill toward the house, when Ian stopped and slowly bent his aging body down to the ground. With deft, experienced fingers, he pushed back a tuft of grass.
“Look, Maggie!”
When she had stooped down next to him, he indicated with almost a sense of joyful reference a tiny yellow primrose, so small that few casual strollers would have seen it.
“Winter is coming to an end,” said Maggie, her words sounding oddly prophetic.
They rose and continued on.
“You know,” said Ian at length, “there’s another element in this change in Allison that I continue to puzzle over.”
Maggie glanced up inquisitively. “You’re not thinking of our new mechanic friend?”
“Aye,” replied Dorey with a twinkle in his eye. “Somehow I think he has more to do with the unlocking of Allison’s heart than even she knows. She mentioned him a number of times when I was talking with her. You do know whom he reminds me of, don’t you?” he asked.
“Why, of course, Ian—you!”
He laughed. “I only hope he can be a better influence on Allison than I was on you.”
“Nonsense! Don’t you even think such a thing,” she chided.
“But it just goes to show again how the Lord uses the most unlikely instruments.”
“I know! Just imagine—old Digory’s descendant.”
“I was actually thinking of his background. It’s as if he just turned up here out of nowhere. We really know nothing about him. I sometimes almost imagine him to be an angel, planted here at this time for the very purpose of triggering these changes in Allison’s heart.”
Maggie became silent for a moment. “He is a puzzling fellow,” she then said. “From the moment I laid eyes on him, I could see Digory in him. His eyes drew me. Yet I’ve sensed something else, too—something I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know whether it alarms me or excites me. But it seems that there is more to him than we know.”
“Of one thing we can be sure. He is intrinsically bound up in the Lord’s present work in Allison—and, for that matter, of the whole estate!”
“We must remember to pray diligently for Mr. Macintyre,” said Maggie solemnly. “Angel or not, there can be no doubt that God sent him to us, not only for Allison’s benefit, but also because of the work the Lord is carrying out in him. Whatever his future at Stonewycke, I sense that he is troubled. We must pray earnestly, for there is no doubt but that he is among us by God’s design.”