HOPE DEFERRED-FAITH JUSTIFIED.
"HAVE you not heard yet, Kate?" asked nurse, as she noted the girl's
disappointed face, after opening the door to the postman on the tenth
morning after her letter went.
Kate shook her head.
"Then depend on it Mrs. Bateson is from home."
"But, think how long it is since my letter went. When she is away, the
letters are always forwarded. She must have had mine before now, and
she is not going to answer."
Ashley would not agree to this. Her faith was stronger than Kate's,
though she had never seen the object of it.
"Depend on it, if Mrs. Bateson has got your letter, she is trying to
hear of something before answering it. Places of the sort you want are
not quite so common as blackberries," said Ashley.
This was reasonable enough, and Kate replied, "I dare say you are
right, only it would have been more like Mrs. Bateson to send me just a
line, to tell me as much.
"I am beginning to be afraid that I shall not be fit for a place of any
sort, if I get no stronger. I can hardly keep on, and when there is
company beside, what I shall do, I know not."
Two days later, and Kate, all unconscious of what was going on around
her, was lying in a sick ward in the Infirmary.
She had broken down hopelessly, and, as Mrs. Maybrick said, "At the
most inconvenient time possible. On the very day before visitors were
expected to be a servant short, and with only a few hours in which to
look for another, was enough to try the patience of an angel.
"What to do with the girl I cannot tell, for the doctor forbids a
railway journey, and her friends live—I really forget where—if I had
any one to send with her."
This difficulty was solved by Mr. Maybrick, who, more pitiful than his
wife, arranged for Kate's admission to the Infirmary, and made himself
responsible for the expenses incurred on her behalf.
Thus it happened, that when Mrs. Bateson's letter came, the girl was
not in a condition to receive it.
Fortunately, Ashley was on the look out for the precious missive,
feeling always convinced that it would come, or it might have been
carelessly laid aside and never reached Kate's hand at all.
The nurse would have liked to take it to the Infirmary herself, but
this Mrs. Maybrick would not allow, though there was nothing infectious
in her late housemaid's illness.
"You must not think of it, nurse," she said. "Who knows what you might
bring home to the children by going to such a place, even if Kate's
illness is not of that character?"
Ashley could only obey, but she wished to serve the girl, and as she
knew the name and address of the lady who conducted the Bible-class,
she ventured to call on her, and told her story.
"The grey-haired lady," as Kate called her, Mrs. Ashton, was ready both
to listen and to help.
She had, from the first, felt greatly interested in her country
scholar, and thus it happened that, when Kate became aware of what was
passing around her, the first familiar face she saw by her bed was Mrs.
Ashton's. She gave a little cry of gladness, but had to be contented to
be still and listen, instead of trying to talk. Only between her thin
fingers was placed a letter, addressed in the well-known writing of
Mrs. Bateson.
That letter was better than medicine to the invalid. It was full of
kind words and promises of help. Nay, there was even the assurance of
a suitable place for Kate, so soon as she could be honourably free to
leave Mrs. Maybrick's service.
At this, the tears came into the girl's eyes. Alas! She was not fit to
undertake the lightest duties, and when would she be? Perhaps never
again.
She was not allowed to dwell on the dark side. A sweet-faced nurse
whispered hopeful words, which were but an echo of the doctor's.
Only time, patience, and good nursing were wanted. Then a stay at a
convalescent home in the country, and she would be as well as she had
ever been in her life.
It was such a comfort to hear this, and to know, beside, that the delay
in answering her letter was owing to Mrs. Bateson's absence. She, her
husband, and eldest children had been travelling on the Continent, and
moving about from place to place, so that they did not receive letters
regularly.
Mrs. Ashton undertook to write, on Kate's behalf, both to her former
mistress and her mother. And then the girl, glad and thankful beyond
expression, could only lie quietly, and obey to the best of her power
the injunction to get well as fast as she could.
Having youth on her side, she made good progress, and her heart was
cheered from time to time by news from Heyington and home. The place
would be kept for her until she was fit for it.
This news seemed almost too good to be true, but if Mrs. Bateson "said"
it, there could be no room for fear or doubt.
The day came when Kate was considered well enough to be removed to the
convalescent home, and carefully wrapped and prepared for the journey,
she was conveyed to the railway station.
"I am going to see you safe to the end," said the pleasant-faced nurse.
And Kate thought this was not the usual way of sending patients, who
went from the Infirmary, a batch at a time, in a sort of omnibus, as
the Home was but a few miles out of Manchester.
She said something of this to the nurse, who smiled in reply, and told
her that was not the Home they were going to.
"We go by train. A good friend of yours has settled all for you." And
the nurse busied herself in making Kate comfortable in a first-class
carriage.
"Are you taking me to mother?" asked Kate, wistfully.
"Not to your own home. It would not do for you yet. If you could get a
sleep now, it would help you over the journey nicely."
And Kate, weak and easily wearied, did go to sleep, and only awoke when
the train stopped amid scenes familiar to her eyes.
Surely this was Heyington! And that must be the carriage from the Hall
waiting for somebody, just outside the gate.
Nearer still, on the platform, and looking eagerly towards the train
stood—yes, there could be no mistake about it—Kate's mother. There she
was, with a whole world of love in her eyes, waiting to welcome her
child, given back, it seemed, from the very verge of the grave, to her
loving arms.
Neither Mrs. Evans nor Kate will ever forget the joy of that moment.
Mrs. Bateson might well be envied for having both the power and the
will to make two people so intensely happy, as were this mother and
daughter.
Their happiness did not end with the meeting. It hangs about them
still, though years have passed since that bright day. It has grown
with each year, and Kate's store of precious memories increases every
day.
Well, the girl found out for whom the carriage was sent to meet the
train she arrived by. It was to take her in the easiest way to the
Hall, which was to be first her "convalescent home," then her permanent
one. Kate's successor had not proved efficient, and it was her old
place that was being kept for her until she was able to take it.
Truly Mrs. Bateson's goodness justified Nurse Ashley's faith. She did
not forgive by halves, but strove both to pardon, restore, and bless.
Need it be told that Kate learned a lesson during her time of weakness
and suffering that she never afterwards forgot, learned to value
what she had once been indifferent about—the Christian mistress, the
well-ordered home, and the peaceful Sabbaths, which are God's good
gifts for the refreshment of weary bodies and longing souls.
Mrs. Bateson and her family have ever since had the most self-devoting
service from Kate, and the good mistress of the Hall has never
regretted that, following the example of her Divine Master, she was
enabled to forgive fully and freely.
Kate has not forgotten Nurse Ashley's kindness to her, and now this
good friend's young daughter is under-housemaid at Heyington. Kate
has the higher place, and strives, by being a true friend to Margaret
Ashley, to repay in some degree the goodwill shown to her by the mother.
More than one suitor has thought what a good wife Kate Evans would
make, but so far she has not been won. She is very happy, and in no
hurry to leave Mrs. Bateson's service.
So we, instead, will leave her where we found her, only adding that she
has a mind at ease about her mother and those who are still left in her
cottage home. Blessed with strength to work and work to do, they are
equally happy and useful.
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