_MALA._
LITTLE did Ruth think, when she and Morris made up their minds to bear
with Mala, that soon she would prove their greatest comfort.
Winter days succeeded that lovely autumn day when she and her father
watched the sunset, and at The Firs peace and happiness reigned. But
when the cold weather came, Morris seemed to fail, and was obliged to
keep to her room and often to her bed.
One evening, just as Ruth was wishing her old friend good-night after
doing all she could for her comfort, Mala knocked at the door and came
softly to the bedside.
"Missie Morris," she said gently, "will you let Mala sleep in your room
and nurse you? Missie Ruth has got them all to see to, and Mala has
plenty of time! Do let me, dear Missie Morris, for all your love to me!
I'm different now," she added beseechingly.
Ruth glanced in Morris' face. "Would you wish it, dear?" she asked,
bending over her.
For answer, Morris put out her hand, and took the dark one in hers. "It
would be a great comfort to me, because I know my childie has more than
enough to do."
"If you will help me, Mala," said Ruth, turning to her, "I should
be very grateful, but I could not give up my dear Morris to anyone
entirely!"
"Oh no, Missie! I meant that. Let Mala do what she can. Indeed, I will
do all you say. I have kept my promise about Master Norman, Missie,
haven't I?"
"Indeed you have," said Ruth, heartily.
And so it was settled, to the great comfort of all parties; for Morris
knew that her dear young lady was less tired; and for herself, the
thought that thus her Lord had provided for her illness was a well of
content.
"I shall soon see Him," she would say with a peaceful look; "it will be
only a little while now."
And she was right. Before the snowdrops had peeped out, dear old
Morris, with her hand clasped in Ruth's, and with Mala standing quietly
by, entered into her eternal rest.
The day before she died, she said to Ruth, "Dearie, you will let Mala
help you all she can? I feel sure you may trust her now. She says she's
been made new all over."
And Ruth said "Yes," with thankful heart.
Ruth's own sorrow at the loss of her dear old friend was quiet and
deep, but she said very little about it for the sake of the others.
At first she had dreaded lest Mala should shew extravagant grief after
her great devotion to her patient. But she soon found that her fears
were groundless.
"Mala not grieving," she answered, when once Ruth looked in her face
questioningly; "Missie Morris with Jesus now; she happy: so Mala happy
too!"
She crept into her own accustomed corner by her own little work-table,
and the only difference was that Morris' bible lay open on it beneath
her work, and that there was a chastened brightness in the dark face
which had been growing there ever since Morris welcomed her into her
room for Christ's sake.
When the weather allowed, Ruth and Norman often went down to Riverside.
And while Norman sat at the table with his lessons, Ruth and Mary
worked and chatted. Happy, peaceful days in which they learned to know
each other thoroughly.
There was only one subject on which they never touched. Mary would
speak of Vincent among the rest, and often his name was on her lips,
but it came in her stories of the days of her old struggles, when she
kept that diary which she had called "In the Sunlight and out of it,"
and she seldom referred to his present doings. The fact that he was
coming home soon was the only one that she mentioned.
As they sat and worked, Mary would tell Ruth stories of the old days
when her friendship with Ada Arundel was her great joy; of the long,
waiting time of Cuthbert Reid before he gained the treasure of Ada's
love; of Nellie Arundel and her many brothers and sisters; of her own
love story with Arthur; and Ruth learned to love them all, and to know
them through Mary's eyes.
The life in the two large families to which Mary now belonged was so
entirely different from anything that Ruth had known that she felt
invigorated by all she heard, and grew stronger in spirit and more
brave when she realised that the struggles and difficulties of others
were as many as her own, though they might be different, and that the
same grace was brought to bear upon them from the same everlasting
Source of Supply.