Then every child bent forward to listen, and wondering, thought in her heart, “What can be worse than fever or fire?”
“The third time when my mother showed how well she loved me,” continued the Sahiba, “was—when she gave me a beating for telling a lie!”
The children were all so much astonished that they could not utter a word. They opened their black eyes wide, and stared at the Sahiba. Buté began to laugh,—it seemed so strange to her that a beating should be called a proof of great love!
“Oh! well, well do I recollect the grief of my mother when she found that her little girl had spoken an untruth!” said the Miss Sahiba. “The pain to her heart was worse, far worse, than the pain of the burns had been to her hands. She told me, with tears in her eyes, that lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, that liars will be shut out from heaven. She punished me, but not in anger; oh no, but in very great sorrow and love. Then she and I knelt down together to ask God to forgive my great sin. I could not speak because of my sobs; but I heard my mother ask God to blot out her child’s sin in the blood of His dear Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, that which alone can wash away sin. My mother prayed—oh, how hard she prayed!—while the tears ran down her cheeks, that God, for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ, would give me His Holy Spirit, to make my sinful heart clean, and to guide me into all truth. Dear children, I shall never forget that day, either the punishment or the prayer. Thanks to my mother who gave the punishment, thanks to God who heard the prayer, I believe that I have never since that time uttered a lie. Now, tell me, my dear children, did not my mother do more for me then, did she not show more true love for me on that sad day, than when she watched me through my illness, or saved my life from the flames?”[30]
Some of the girls said “Yes;” but one of them whispered softly, “It does not seem so to me.”
“I will tell you why I think it,” said the Miss Sahiba, who had heard the whisper. “Sin is a worse evil than fever, and the fire of God’s anger worse than fire that only burns the body. It was pain to my mother to punish me; but she did not shrink from the pain, no more than she shrank from throwing me down on the floor, or scorching her own hands when she was trying to put out the flames.”
Many of the girls were listening with interest and attention; but the Miss Sahiba saw but too well that Buté did not care for good counsel. The child’s eyes had wandered to the picture which the Miss Sahiba still held in her hand; and while others were thinking of the lesson of truth taught by the lady, Buté only asked the trifling question, “Is the frame of that picture real gold?”
Alas! that when God’s servants speak of heaven and the way to reach it, and of other solemn truths, some who might listen and learn let their attention be drawn away by the merest trifles. It is as if a person to whom a diamond is offered should turn away to chase a butterfly; or as if one fleeing from a tiger should stop to pluck a flower by the way.
It was not many days after that on which the Miss Sahiba had told her story, that her first friend, the Mem Sahiba, came to visit the school at Khushpore. It is easy to be imagined that Buté was rejoiced again to see her kind friend; and in honour of the visit, the Miss Sahiba promised all the children a feast of fruit.