“Nelly!” answered the farmer in a clearer tone, “the Lord has got love and pardon for all those who want it. It’s only from those that don’t want it that He turns away. His blood has washed out the sins of that great multitude whom no man can number, and it will cleanse you too. Do you think He ever expects to find any of His children who don’t need washing? Ay, the darker they are in their own eyes, the fairer they seem in His!”
As Rhoda listened to her father’s words, and to her cousin’s low replies, she began to realize that poor, weak Helen had felt herself to be a sinner for many a day. She had felt it, and had tried to forget it. But this was not the first time that she had heard the Master’s call, and yearned to follow Him. Yet the weakness of the flesh had prevailed again and again, and her feet had gone on stumbling on the dark mountains. They would never stumble any more. The great King had come Himself to guide them over the golden pavement to the mansion prepared in His Father’s house.
All that day Rhoda’s mother was by the bedside. Rhoda herself went to and fro, now ministering to the baby’s wants, now hanging over her cousin’s pillow. Once she stayed out of the room for nearly half-an-hour, and on entering it again, she saw her mother strangely agitated. Helen’s head was on her aunt’s bosom, and her pale lips were moving. But Rhoda could not hear what she said.
“She tarried with them until the breaking of another day.”—Page 7
She tarried with them until the breaking of another day. The sun came up. Shadows of jessamine sprays were drawn sharply on the white blind; a glory of golden light fell on the chamber wall. Towards that light the dying face was turned. To Rhoda, at that moment, came a sudden impulse. Clearly and firmly she repeated the familiar lines that she and Helen had learnt years ago,—
“The wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee,
And sinners may hope, for the Sinless has died.”
For answer, there was a quick, bright smile, and then the half-breathed word—
“Forgiven.”