And now began a happy time in a hitherto very dark little life.
All her cares, her anxieties for Dick even, swept away, Flo had stept
into a state of existence that to her was one of luxury.
The effect on many a nature, after the first burst of thankfulness was
over, would have been a hardening one. The bright sunshine of
prosperity, without any of the rain of affliction, would have dried up
the fair soil, withered, and caused to die, the good seed.
But on Flo the effect was different; she never forgot one thing, and
this memory kept all else straight within her. In counting up her
mercies, she never forgot that it was God who gave them to her; and in
return she gave Him, not love as a duty, but love rising free and
spontaneous out of a warm, strong heart.
And He whom she loved she longed to hear more of, and Mrs Jenks, whose
love for God and faith in God was as great as her own, loved to tell her
of Him.
So these two, in their simple, unlearned way, held converse often
together on things that the men of this world so seldom allude to, and
doubtless they learned more about God than the men of this world, with
all their talents and cultivated tastes, ever attain to.
It was Mrs Jenks' simple plan to take all that the Bible said in its
literal and exact meaning, and Flo and she particularly delighted in its
descriptions (not imagery to them) of Heaven.
And when Mrs Jenks read to Flo out of the 21st and 22nd chapters of the
Revelation, the child would raise her clear brown eyes to the autumn
sky, and see with that inner sense, so strong in natures like hers, the
gates of pearl and golden streets. God lived there--and many people who
once were sad and sorrowful in this world, lived there--and it was the
lovely happy home where she hoped she and Dick should also live some
day.
"And you too, Mrs Jenks, and that poor lad of yours," she would say,
laying her head caressingly on the little woman's knee.
But Mrs Jenks rather wondered why Flo never mentioned now that other
Jenks, her namesake, who was wearing out his slow nine months'
imprisonment in the Wandsworth House of Correction.
Once Flo had been very fond of him, and his name was on her lips twenty
times a day, now she never spoke of him.
Why was this? Had she forgotten Jenks? Hardly likely.
She was such a tender, affectionate little thing, interested even in
that poor prodigal lad, whose best robe would soon be as ready, and as
bright, and fresh, and new, as Mrs Jenks' fingers could make it.
No, Flo had not forgotten Jenks, but she had found out a secret.
Without any one telling her, she had guessed _who_ the lad was who was
expected back in the spring; who that jacket, and trousers, and vest
were getting ready for. A certain likeness in the eyes, a certain play
of the lips, had connected poor Jenks in prison with Mrs Jenks in this
bright, home-like, little room. She knew they were mother and son, but
as Mrs Jenks had not mentioned it herself, she would never pretend that
she had discovered her secret. But Flo had one little fear--she was not
quite sure that Jenks _would_ come home. She knew nothing of his
previous history, but in her own intercourse with him she had learned
enough of his character to feel sure that the love for thieving was far
more deeply engrafted into his heart than his gentle, trusting little
mother had any idea of. When he was released from prison, bad
companions would get round him, and he would join again in their evil
ways.
He could not now harm Dick, who was safe at that good school for two or
three years, but in their turn others might harm him, and the jacket and
trousers might lie by unused, and the crocuses and snowdrops wither, and
still Jenks might not come. He might only join in more crime, and go
back again to prison, and in the end break his mother's gentle, trusting
heart.
Now Flo wondered could _she_ do anything to bring the prodigal home.
She thought of this a great deal; she lay in her little white bed, the
bed God had given her, and told God about it, and after a time a plan
came into her head.
Three times a week she went to Miss Mary's pleasant house to be taught
knitting by Annie, and reading and writing by that lady herself, and on
one of these occasions she unfolded her idea to this kind listener, and
between them they agreed that it should be carried out.