“Oh! what shall I do!—what shall I do!” exclaimed the unhappy and penitent girl, after she had exhausted herself by cries for help which no one could hear. “Would that I had never listened to the voices of the tempters!—would that I had never broken through the fence of Duty, and left my safe and happy home! I chose my own way; and a way of misery I have found it. I was lifted up with pride, and now I have fallen into the depths of despair!”
Ghuldasta could distinguish objects lying at no great distance from her, which she at once recognized; for on them golden letters were faintly glimmering in the moonlight. These were the stakes from the fence of Duty which she had herself broken and flung away!
“Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder,” faintly murmured Ghuldasta, as tears flowed fast down her cheeks. “Alas! I would never submit; I was never clothed in humility; I would not obey her whom my Father had placed over me; I was insolent to her in my manner, I despised her wise commands, I abused her patience, I grieved her heart. I shall never, never see her again. Oh! will she ever give a sorrowful thought to her poor Ghuldasta! No, no; she will be happy with those who love her—those who obey her. I shall soon be forgotten by all. Even in heaven they will never meet, nor even miss, the wretched Ghuldasta!” At the miserable thought, the poor girl cried as if her heart would break.
Hark! what was that fearful sound in the distance? Was it not the roar of the lion who goeth about seeking whom he may devour? Ghuldasta could not fight, and she could not flee. She was ready to faint with terror. Then in her agony the repentant sinner betook herself to prayer. Never, never had poor Ghuldasta prayed before as she prayed on that night, with clasped hands and streaming eyes! Her supplications were no mockery now—they came from a broken and contrite heart.
Ashley Sahiba, meanwhile, lay asleep on her bed; but even in sleep her mind was restless. Thoughts of her self-willed, proud Ghuldasta mixed themselves with her dreams. At last the lady suddenly awoke, for it seemed as if a voice were whispering in her ears: “O shepherdess! where is your poor lost lamb?”
Ashley Sahiba closed her tired eyes, and tried to go to sleep again, but she could not; she was so unhappy about Ghuldasta. Presently she arose, and knelt down and prayed for the child. Then softly moving along the rows of beds on which the children were sleeping, the lady sought that of Ghuldasta, and started to find it empty! Her fears were but too well-founded—Ghuldasta had fled! That moment was one of the most painful which the lady had ever known in the course of her life.
Ghuldasta, imprisoned by thorns, and sorely hurt by her fall, lay straining her eyes to catch sounds in the distance, and exhausted her little remaining strength by weeping. At last, to her exceeding terror, she saw the bushes on the cliff above her moving, as if some large animal were forcing its way down the difficult descent. She expected every moment to see the glaring eyes of a beast of prey; she became silent in the extremity of her fear. Then, from the very spot from whence Ghuldasta expected to hear a savage growl, came a dear and well-known voice: “My child! my child! where are you?” Ghuldasta, collecting all her strength, called out the name of her lady; and a glad voice answered from above. Heedless of weariness or danger, Ashley Sahiba, by help of the bushes, was clambering down the cliff from the top of which Ghuldasta had fallen. The lady was like the good shepherd seeking the straying sheep; like the woman searching for the lost piece of silver; and when at last she clasped her Ghuldasta in her arms, her cry of joy was like that of the prodigal’s father: This my son was dead and is alive again; was lost, and is found.
Ashley Sahiba was followed by servants whom she had roused to help in the search for Ghuldasta, and who had made their way down the hill by a longer but less dangerous path. The poor girl, clinging to her Mem Sahiba, was raised from her painful position, and carried up on a litter, for she was unable to walk.
A fever succeeded, caused by the sufferings both of mind and body endured on that night by Ghuldasta. Under careful nursing she recovered from the fever, but the poor girl carried on her to her dying day marks of her terrible fall, and the remembrance of it was never effaced from her mind. But happy was it for Ghuldasta that she had learned to anoint her eyes with the salve of Self-examination mixed with Prayer; happy was it for her that she could say, Whereas I was blind, now I see. Ghuldasta had parted company with Pride and Self-will; she became daily more meek and lowly, more like Him who, though God as well as man, deigned in His youth to be subject to a mortal mother. Ghuldasta became the joy and crown of the faithful friend to whom she so long had been a cause of trouble and sorrow. That friend taught her where alone she could find forgiveness for all her past sins, and grace to struggle against them in the future. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matt. v. 4, 3).