"It is."
"Oh, my father, my father! He is coming to us. He still loves and forgives. Palko, pray for me, for something will happen to me," bitterly crying, the lady fell on her knees.
Palko prayed, "Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, that her father is coming, that he has forgiven her, though he is still far away, yet Thou art here. If she will just ask Thee, Thou wilt forgive her, because Thou dost love her so much, I know. Amen."
Life and death is in the power of the tongue. In the words of Palko there was life. The lady believed that the Good Shepherd was really there, that He came to meet her. Once she had run away from Him; today she did not want to run away. Today she confessed her transgressions to Him. She knew well that it was against Him she had sinned most, that she had gone from Him, to her own destruction. She had despised Him when He had stretched out His pierced hands to her, though they had been nailed on the cross for her sake. She had not wanted to sing to His honor and glory; and had hated the songs of the Lamb. She had wanted to sing for the people and had—but they had repaid her by breaking her heart. But He, whom she despised, had followed her here. She had not wanted to hear famous preachers; but He had sent a child along her path that he might lead her to the feet of the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd did not despise her; at last He had received her. Palko did not understand what the lady prayed, for she prayed in English, but he understood the tone. The Lord Jesus was with her and she knew it and talked with Him. Palko rose silently and respectfully, and left the place which now belonged to the lady and the Good Shepherd.
CHAPTER TEN
"Boast not thyself of tomorrow for thou knowest not what the day may bring forth," says the Word of God, and that truly. Even at the sheepfolds they did not dream what the next day would bring to them, the serious illness of Ondrejko's mother. The doctor, very much worried, said that the unexpected message about the arrival of her beloved father, whom she had not seen for years, shocked her so much, that she fell into a nervous illness, which he had wanted to prevent by bringing her here to the mountains. Only Palko and Bacha Filina knew that there was something more which overcame her. They spoke about it only between themselves and prayed for the lady very much. She seemed to recognize no one. She lay in her bed like a beautiful flower broken from its stem. In vain did Ondrejko whisper to her, and stroke and kiss her. She looked at him but did not answer. Only one thing consoled her poor child, that she had an expression, whether she slept or not, as though she were very happy. At times she sang beautiful songs to the honor of the Lamb; other times again, a sea ballad, and after that always the song, "My faith looks up to Thee." Thus two weeks passed by without any change.
In the meantime Lesina came; he finished what was necessary and went away, but did not take Palko with him. He could not do that to Ondrejko, who nestled to his comrade like a little bird driven out of its nest. The doctor said Ondrejko would surely be sick if his comrade left him just at this time. Bacha promised Lesina that he himself would take Palko home when the lady got better, because he believed that the lady would get well, although the doctor gave no hope that she would not die or that she would not lose her mind. For this reason also, Lesina could not take Palko away, for it seemed that the sick lady knew him. When he read in his Book she looked at him as if she listened, and though she did not say anything, she was always so quiet and happy.
In the meantime the answer came from Paris, and the unfortunate lady did not know that the boy who sat beside her bed so pale, now belonged only to her, and that no one else had any right to him. Neither did she know about another message—yes, even two; one coming from Hamburg in which her father announced that he had arrived safely; the other announcing his coming on Saturday evening to the nearest railway station. The Bacha very sadly stood at the foot of the lady's bed with both messages in his hands, and Aunty Moravec cried bitterly.
"What shall we do, Bacha Filina? He is coming from such a distance and knows nothing. How will he take it, when he finds her thus, and will hear that because of his telegram this sickness overcame her? Previously, in Russia, the doctors had told her that some day her nerves might give way. Oh, what will the poor father say? He wanted to give her joy, and it has turned out like this."
"What God does and permits, is always good," Filina said, nodding his head. "Do not worry; I am going for her father, and on the way will prepare him for what he will find here."