One day she slipped away directly after breakfast. She wanted to be sure of finding her alone.
It was one of the invalid’s good days, and she greeted her with a bright smile of welcome.
‘My lady,’ she began abruptly, ‘do you think I have forgotten all about my promise? I could not. It has haunted me through everything, and—I gave myself to the King last night.’
Tryphosa’s eyes glowed deep with pleasure.
‘Thank God!’ she exclaimed softly. Then she closed her eyes, and Pauline knew from her moving lips that she was talking with the Lord.
She touched Pauline gently.
‘I had to talk a little about the good news with Jesus. He is my nearest neighbour, you know. And now, dear child, tell me all about it. What a wonderfully simple thing it is! People talk so much about being a Christian, when, after all, it is simply to be Christ’s. We open the door where He has knocked so long, and let Him in. We give ourselves away to Jesus henceforth to live in Him, with Him, by Him, and for Him for ever. Dear child, when you were giving, did you include your will?’
‘My will?’ echoed Pauline, startled.
‘Why surely. The Christian is not to direct his Master.’
‘But how do you mean, my lady?’