The Miss Sahiba used often to gather the children around her and talk with them when the hours for lessons were over; and much did they like to listen. Sometimes she told them of the dear mother whom she had left behind in England, that she might come and teach little Indian children the way to heaven.
The Miss Sahiba sat in the schoolroom on one hot summer’s day, when the weather was too sultry for even her native children to go out, and they were seated on the floor around her. The Miss Sahiba felt weary and faint, for she had come from a land where the heat is never great, and the glow of India was to her almost as that of a fiery furnace. But she thought that her dear Lord had given her these children as His little lambs to feed, and she was willing to live and even to die far away from her own home, if she only might be permitted to lead these children to the Lord Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who gave His life for the sheep.
“I think that there was never a better mother than mine,” said the Miss Sahiba, as she showed to the children a little picture of her dear parent which she had just received from England. “My mother was always kind and good to me, but there were three occasions in my life on which she showed the greatest love; and whenever I recall these occasions to mind, I bless God for having given me such a good mother.”
The children were eager to hear more, and little Buté, who sat nearest to the feet of the Miss Sahiba, looked up into her face and said, “Tell us of these three times when the Mem Sahiba in England showed so much love.”
“I will tell you,” replied the Miss Sahiba; “and you shall judge on which occasion the greatest love was shown.
“The first time was when I was sick with the small-pox. Day and night my dear mother watched by my bed. If, after feverish sleep, I opened my eyes at midnight, there, close at hand, ready with the medicine or cooling drink, I ever saw my beloved mother. But for her tender care, I believe that I should have died. Was it not true love that made her watch over me thus?”
The Miss Sahiba paused, and all the children who had heard her replied, “It was very great love.”
“The second occasion was this,” the Miss Sahiba went on. “One evening in winter, when the fire was lighted in our sitting-room, I saw above the mantlepiece a picture that had been crookedly hung. It was rather higher than I could reach with my hand, so I brought a stool, and stood upon it, that I might set the picture straight. I knew not that my dress, as I stood, had touched the fire, until, to my great terror, I found myself all in flames! My shrieks brought my mother to my aid. She threw me down on the floor; she wrapped a thick rug around me; with her own dear hands, all scorched and blistered, she put out the fire. Never shall I forget how my mother then clasped me to her heart, and wept, and thanked God who had enabled her to save her child from a terrible death. She was herself in very great pain from her burns, but she scarcely thought of the pain.”
Again the Miss Sahiba paused, and one and all of the children said, “The Mem Sahiba showed very great love.”
“On the third occasion, of which I am going to tell you,” said the English Sahiba, “I think that even greater love was shown, for my mother saved me from something worse than even fever or fire.”