On Sunday morning the doctor brought some papers. They all had met
at breakfast in the hut. When the lady read the letters, she folded
Ondrejko in her arms, and half-crying and half-laughing said, "My dear
son, now you may really say, 'our woods,' 'our sheep,' because I have
bought it all for you, my Ondrejko, and all this ground. Only I don't
know if I dare say: 'Our Bacha Filina.' I cannot, if it were not for
you. He himself must decide if he will stay with us. Do tell him that
he must stay."
"Do not ask, Ondrejko," smiled Bacha. "If you are at all satisfied
with me--yes, if you are satisfied with all of us--we all will be glad
to stay; isn't it so, boys?"
"Surely we will be very glad to stay," answered the herdsmen.
Soon it was known at all three sheepfolds that Madame Slavkovsky had
bought Lord Gemer's estate and that she would deed it to Ondrejko if
Lord Gemer would give up her son to her. No one doubted that he would
do this, and since the present manager gave notice to leave, because
he had been called to manage a different estate, the lady hoped that
she would find some other responsible man. She promised everyone a
raise in wages as soon as the change of ownership of the estate was
recorded and improvements made. Everybody rejoiced. It almost seemed
that even the sheep knew that Ondrejko had become their master. It was
lovely how they rang their bells.
Over the sheepcotes every once in a while sounded the song which they
called the lady's: "My faith looks up to Thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary."
The boys taught it to everybody who wanted to learn it, and what
Slovak would not like to learn a new song? When Aunty Moravec noticed
how they all liked it, she confided to Palko that she still had a
whole book of such songs from America. Thereupon, Ondrejko begged his
mother to sing one of them once in a while. She made no excuses. Every
day she taught them a new one, each more beautiful than those before.
They did not realize that she taught them the very songs from which
she ran away in the home of her parents, and which she would neither
hear nor sing there. Bacha permitted the herders from the other
sheepcotes to come over to his hut. They loved to come for those
songs. They had good voices, clear as the evening bells. The lady
even taught them to sing one in four parts. When Sunday came, they
practised the whole afternoon, and sang in the evening, so that it
sounded over the mountains like a beautiful melody.
That Sunday Palko read and explained how the Lord came from Nazareth
to live in Capernaum, since they did not want Him in Nazareth, and
that even today the Lord Jesus did not want to compel anybody, even as
He had not compelled those in Nazareth, but went away and left them
forever. Then he begged everybody not to send the Lord Jesus away, but
permit Him to live with them. "It would be very sad if our sheepcotes
would be like those of Nazareth, and if He had to forsake us and go
farther on to Capernaum. Where He is, there is heaven and there is
life. He heals every sickness. Just notice how many people He healed
in Capernaum. But where He is not, there is darkness, just as in that
song it says: 'Oh, there is no more salvation.'"
With serious thoughts they all departed to their rest. Ondrejko slept
very soundly, but in spite of that it seemed to him that he heard his
mother crying. In the morning he saw from her eyes that she had not
slept very much. He dared not wake her up. So he stole out on tiptoe
with his suit and dressed outside.
Once when Joe brought things from the city and Aunty Moravec gave him
a good meal, he began to praise his new lady and asked sincerely, "But
why did Lord de Gemer part with her? He will not find another like her
in the world."
"He did not part with her, but she parted with him," said the old
nurse with clouded face. "He is a bad, unfaithful man. The poor woman
loved him so much and believed everything. When she took him, she had
much money; and he just lived on her money and wasted it. He played
cards and did all kinds of evil things. By the time we came to
Budapest she was robbed of everything. He wanted her to continue to
sing there. She had beautiful jewels; he told her he would deposit
them in a bank, but he pawned them, because at the horse-races he had
lost a big bet and needed much money. When he said that I warned her
not to let everything go out of her power, through false accusation he
separated me from her, accusing me of causing trouble between them.
When there was no one else to defend her and she was robbed of
everything, they began to look down upon her--his mother, his sisters,
and he himself. She was born in America; there they treat women
differently. In spite of it she suffered a whole year because she
loved him very much. Once she saw her jewelry on another lady, and
asked where she had bought them. Thus she found out that they were
pawned and had been sold for the charges on them. There were many
evil-minded people around her; they opened her eyes after that to what
kind of a husband she had, how he fooled and robbed her, that he loved
only her money. That was most insulting to her. Not an hour more would
she stay with him under the same roof. She got together the last
things she had--above all her little son--and went to Vienna. There
I found her dangerously sick. She asked her husband to send her her
things, for she was sick. He again asked for the boy but she would not
give him up. In order that they might not take him away, I, myself,
took him to northern Bohemia, to my own family, where it was well with
him. In the meantime the lawsuit ended, and they took him away from
her because he was assigned to his father. Because she did not give
the boy up at once, he sent her, from her clothing and laundry, only
what was old and shabby. His relatives divided her beautiful, valuable
garments among themselves. Thus they dealt with her because nobody
would protect her. In those hard days, her uncle from America, who had
arranged for her training in singing, helped her. Thus she could pay
for the upkeep of the boy, and we went first to Berlin, then to Rome
and Paris. She sang to make her living, but also that she might regain
the honor of which Lord Gemer wanted to rob her, when he had parted
with her and had told all kinds of evil about her, which he could not
prove. Later we went to England, and finally to Russia. There she
fared the best. There she might have become a rich princess, but she
would not look at any man again. How glad the gentlemen there would
have been if she would have spoken to them as kindly as she speaks
here with you. But the purer the life she led, the more they bothered
her, and the more she did not want to live. She said she wanted to see
her boy once more before she died. For a long time we could not find
out where the boy was. Finally, she got sick on the railroad, and by
God's direction Dr. H. helped her. From him she learned all the truth,
and after that he brought her here. And now you know why she left the
Lord de Gemer."
"That robber, that gypsy, that deceiver, how he fooled and robbed her!
If one of us steals a chicken or the like he is put at once behind the
bars. Such a gentleman can do everything, but if she would just go to
law he would have to return her everything," said Joe angrily.
"Yes, he would have to, but she doesn't want to. She is not concerned
about mammon. All she wants is to have peace from him forever. But
that he should not make any trouble about the child, I wrote to our
lawyer who was to make the arrangements for her, to threaten him with
a lawsuit for the jewelry and money if he would not give up the boy
willingly. My lady will never know what I did. Our lawyer is a good
friend, and a decent and honest man, not such an one as we had
before."
That Joe did not keep this news to himself is true. Thus Filina's
helpers found out what kind of a master they had only after he ceased
to be their lord. To the last one all took the lady's part. All were
sorry for her and wished her to have the record very soon in black and
white, that the boy was hers only, and the father had no more claims
on him. Everyone greeted her very respectfully wherever they met her.
She walked sadly and in deep contemplation. Only among the boys was
she cheerful.
In the sheepcotes also they were once in a while in sad contemplation.
They counted the days before Lesina would come for Palko and take
him away. When Ondrejko with tears in his eyes confided this to his
mother, her cheeks turned pale with fright. It had never occurred
to her that Palko would leave, and she could not even imagine those
surroundings without him. One day he accompanied her to the cottage.
She had promised him a nice song; he had come in to get it.
"Palko, do you want to go away from us?" she began suddenly, and took
the boy by the hand.
"Verily, even next week my father is coming," he said seriously. "Then
we will have about five days' more work with the timber, and then we
shall leave."
"But you will be glad to go home; will you not?"
"Really very glad," he confessed sincerely. "Since I have not seen my
mother for weeks, nor grandfather nor grandmother and all, nor have
they seen me. They will be glad when I come, and I more than they all,
because we all will be together again."
"And will you not be sorry for your comrades? They will miss you
sadly."
"Yes, indeed; I will be very lonesome without them and Uncle Filina.
I love him very much, like my old pastor Malina. I am thankful to the
Lord Jesus that Uncle is healthy and will not yet die, but will tell
his helpers about the Lord Jesus, and everybody else. Only one thing
worries me; it is that when I go away, I shall not find out what you,
lady, will do with the Lord Jesus. You taught us such beautiful songs;
till my death I shall be thankful to you for them. You have sung so
beautifully for us, like an angel from heaven; but you do not believe
what you have been singing. I am sorry for that, and the Lord Jesus is
sorry also. Yesterday you taught us the song:
"Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast,
There by His love o'ershadowed,
Safely my soul shall rest."
"It would fit you so beautifully if you would give yourself in His
hands just as the shepherd carries the lost sheep. It would be so good
for you in His arms; I know that best of all. While here among you,
more than once homesickness for my mother threatened to overcome me;
but when I considered that He is with me, it was well with me at once,
and I was right at home. You have met already much evil in the world
and more than once you were sad, were you not? But He would console
you. However, if you would let Him go away like the people of
Nazareth, He will go on, but you would remain alone. Ondrejko told me
that you have a very good father, that your father already belongs to
the Lord Jesus. Ondrejko belongs to Him also; sometime they both will
go to Him, and you will be left alone," and Palko broke out crying.
"Do not cry," said the lady in a peculiar voice. "I don't want to be
like the people at Nazareth. I would like to go on that narrow path,
but I cannot find it. I am too full of sin for God to receive me. So
long as my earthly father does not forgive me, I cannot seek the face
of God."
Their talk was broken off when they came to the bench, because Aunty
Moravec came to meet them, all pale, "A special messenger brought a
telegram. Please sign here."
The lady's knees began to tremble. She sat on the bench, signed the
paper, and handed it to Aunty, then quickly she opened the telegram
and read. Dark spots formed before her eyes. Unable to see, she handed
the telegram to the boy. "Palko, read me that," and Palko read:
"New York. I am embarking. Coming to see you. Your loving father."
"Is it really so, Palko?"
"It is."
"Oh, my father, my father! He is coming to us. He still loves and
forgives. Palko, pray for me, for something will happen to me,"
bitterly crying, the lady fell on her knees.
Palko prayed, "Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, that her father is coming, that
he has forgiven her, though he is still far away, yet Thou art here.
If she will just ask Thee, Thou wilt forgive her, because Thou dost
love her so much, I know. Amen."
Life and death is in the power of the tongue. In the words of Palko
there was life. The lady believed that the Good Shepherd was really
there, that He came to meet her. Once she had run away from Him; today
she did not want to run away. Today she confessed her transgressions
to Him. She knew well that it was against Him she had sinned most,
that she had gone from Him, to her own destruction. She had despised
Him when He had stretched out His pierced hands to her, though they
had been nailed on the cross for her sake. She had not wanted to sing
to His honor and glory; and had hated the songs of the Lamb. She had
wanted to sing for the people and had--but they had repaid her by
breaking her heart. But He, whom she despised, had followed her here.
She had not wanted to hear famous preachers; but He had sent a
child along her path that he might lead her to the feet of the Good
Shepherd. The Good Shepherd did not despise her; at last He had
received her. Palko did not understand what the lady prayed, for she
prayed in English, but he understood the tone. The Lord Jesus was
with her and she knew it and talked with Him. Palko rose silently and
respectfully, and left the place which now belonged to the lady and
the Good Shepherd.