"Yes, afraid lest God should take her away from me. He might think I was making an idol of her, and that it was better I should do without her. That thought makes me afraid." To no living soul before, had Cicely told of the fear that often stirred within her, but Denis Fergusson's brown eyes and sympathetic manner, invited confidence, and in some unaccountable fashion he made her think of John, the loving husband who had always understood.
"Isn't yours rather a pagan way of looking at things?" Fergusson said gently. "Surely our God is not a jealous God, Who takes away what we love, because we love it? I don't believe it is possible to love a person too much, if one only loves them rightly. And I could never believe that the God Whose name is Father, could be angry with a mother's love."
"I am glad you have said that to me," Cicely answered. "Baba is so much to me, so very, very much, but I don't want to make an idol of her, dear little sweetheart."
"She is a very adorable person," Fergusson said brightly. "I shall miss my daily visits to her; she and I have made great friends."
"She is the friendliest soul. We have always wrapped her round with love; I wanted her to be loving and happy."
"I think you have succeeded. She is the delight of the village, and of the whole neighbourhood. She and her very capable nurse are known for miles round. There will be great lamentations when they go."
"They must come back," Cicely smiled, well-pleased at the praise of her darling. "I am taking them both to Bramwell for Christmas, but later on in the spring or summer, they will come here again."
"But I, alas! shall be gone."
"Ah! I forgot you are only doing temporary work here. You know you are not quite 'in the picture' here," she said with a smile.
"Why?" The one word, though abruptly uttered, was accompanied by the smile that made Fergusson's poorer patients say, it warmed their hearts when he smiled at them; and Cicely had the same sensation of warmth.