Often I have thought that if I were doomed to solitary confinement for life and allowed but one book, I would choose the Bible, since, in addition to all its history and the splendour of its language, it contains the record of the hope of man, and therefore should be sufficient for him. So at least it had proved to be in this case.
Oddly enough, as she told us, like her husband, Mrs. Eversley during all those endless years had never lost some kind of belief that she would one day be saved otherwise than by death.
“I always thought that you still lived and that we should meet again, John,” I heard her say to him.
Also her own and her daughter’s spirits were mysteriously supported, for after the first shock and disturbance of our arrival we found them cheerful people; indeed, Miss Hope was quite a merry soul. But then she had never known any other life, and human nature is very adaptable. Further, if I may say so, she had grown up a lady in the true sense of the word. After all, why should she not, seeing that her mother, the Bible and Nature had been her only associates and sources of information, if we except the poor slaves who waited on them, most of whom were mutes.
When Mrs. Eversley’s story was done, we told ours, in a compressed form. It was strange to see the wonder with which these two ladies listened to its outlines, but on that I need not dwell. When it was finished I heard Miss Hope say:
“So it would seem, O Stephen Somers, that it is you who are saviour to us.”
“Certainly,” answered Stephen, “but why?”
“Because you see the dry Holy Flower far away in England, and you say, ‘I must be Holy Father to that Flower.’ Then you pay down shekels (here her Bible reading came in) for the cost of journey and hire brave hunter to kill devil-god and bring my old white-head parent with you. Oh yes, you are saviour,” and she nodded her head at him very prettily.
“Of course,” replied Stephen with enthusiasm; “that is, not exactly, but it is all the same thing, as I will explain later. But, Miss Hope, meanwhile could you show us the Flower?”
“Oh! Holy Mother must do that. If you look thereon without her, you die.”