During her husband's stay at home Juana had much of the time been carrying on an inward struggle. She had endeavored to quiet her unrest by plunging into reckless dissipation, but the still small voice followed her even to the midnight revel. And often, when she had filled all her waking hours with busy trifles—purposely to crowd out these intrusive thoughts—she would wake as by a flash, her spirit filled with a strange dread, and then, in the still solemn hour the eternal would speak to the mortal, who, shrinking away in conscious guilt, felt that there were just two things in the universe; herself, and an awful presence who searched her through.
When left again to her lonely life, Juana gave herself with unceasing application to the study of English, so that she might read her new Bible. She could already spell out texts made up of simple words, and form a tolerably clear conception of their meaning. If she was going to read a book, she must of course begin at the beginning and read it through; so she plunged boldly into the great volume. As well might one essay to cross the ocean in a tiny sail-boat, as for this dark-minded girl to get any available knowledge from such a deep; the unbeliever would say, and truly, the undertaking would have been hopeless had it not been a wonderful Book, with a wonderful Teacher.
She labored through the first chapter of Genesis with that great name in almost every verse. Never was tale more fascinating than this one. It was read in a poor blundering way; but the truth had been gleaned that God made the world and all it contains. No doubt as to the truth of it entered her mind for a moment. Day after day she spelled her way through succeeding chapters. It was all new and wonderful, but disappointing. It was not what she craved: something that would remove the strange heaviness that weighed upon her. On the contrary she gathered that all the world had gone astray from God and were under his wrath and curse, and that agreed with what she had conceived. God to be; a stern, awful being, holding a sword over the heads of his creatures. The more she read the greater grew the mystery. "I cannot make it out," she said, almost despairingly, "it is all confusion;" then, with the superstition of her race, resolved, "I will put the book of God under my pillow; I will see if some good may not come to me from it while I sleep." Perchance there might be sweeter sleep if the "book of God" oftener pillowed troubled heads. Finally she abandoned the project of reading the Bible through, and puzzled out bits here and there, hoping to chance upon something that she could understand.
"All have sinned and come short of the glory of God," she read, then sadly murmured, "Yes, I know that; the very first of the book tells it, and that is what I am, a sinner. I have a bad heart, oh! so bad. But how shall I make it good I know not." And just here Juana discovered the old remedy that many burdened souls resort to. She would propitiate Heaven with good works. So she gave money freely and liberally whenever a hand was stretched out, and tried to be amiable and lovely, and made a solemn vow to perfectly keep all the commandments. The result was the usual one that comes to a sinner trying to justify himself by the law. Every dormant evil in the poor girl's heart awoke and clamored. Satan worried and buffeted at every turn, and, growing irritable and impatient she declared, "What should I want of a book that makes me so unhappy? It must be bad, for since I know it I am not so good as once I was."
After that the book was not opened for days, but rested in the bottom of Juana's trunk, "under much clothes, so that I could not see it," she said, and she herself wandered up and down like a lost spirit, out of heart with everything within and about her. Then, to fill up the wretched, lonely days with something, she again brought out her Bible and plunged into the laborious task more earnestly than before.
Gracious and kind as He ever is, the Lord was teaching this one poor little scholar as if she were the only soul in the universe. After Juana had thoroughly learned that she was a sinner, this blessed truth flashed up at her one day as she was toiling through a verse: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." She went through it again, eagerly, with dilating eyes and suspended breath. "Ah! What is this!" she exclaimed. "This is news indeed! Christ Jesus: Who can he be? He saves sinners! And that is me."
At last she found the key. And now how intently she searched out that name, drinking in the truth, as one dying of thirst would seize a cup of cold water. Little by little she got it all—the old, old story; the birth in Bethlehem, the lowly, lovely life in Nazareth, the cross, the death, the tomb, the resurrection, the ascension, and, at last, the gracious invitation—
"Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."
"Oh! I want rest," she cried; and falling upon her knees breathed her first prayer, "I come, I come. O, save me, Christ Jesus!" Without even realizing that this was prayer, she poured out all her heart before Him. "I know not how long I did talk to Him," she told some one afterward; "a long time it was, but I had so much to tell Him I could not stop. And when I get up from my knees, my trouble be all gone! I feel so light it seems to me I could fly. When I look out the window I say, 'O, what a world! So beautiful! The sky so blue, the trees so grand and the flowers so bright! I wonder I never see the glory before.' Then something say, 'It is wrong for you to be so happy When you are such a sinner,' so I try to get back the big heavy load, but I cannot; I can only sing for joy."
Secure in her newly found peace, Juana watched unceasingly for her husband's return, eager to tell him the good news.