Mrs. Ray had never wholly recovered from the severe cold with which she had been attacked soon after the arrival of Daph. At times, her cough returned upon her with violence, and at length a sudden hemorrhage laid her low. Prostrate, enfeebled and helpless, Mrs. Ray had time to dwell upon her past life, and see all too plainly, the hatefulness of her own wicked heart. A dull despair crept over her. She gave herself up as a lost and hopeless being, waiting for her eternal doom. Daph felt her own incapacity to reason with, and comfort the wretched woman, and to Rose she turned for aid and counsel.
Often and long Rose Stuyvesant sat beside the bed of the unhappy woman, and strove to open her mind to the free forgiveness, granted through the blood of Christ Jesus. Her words of peace seemed to fall on a deaf ear and a deadened heart; but to the listening, unnoticed Mary, they were the message of pardon and joy in believing.
Long years of humbling sickness were in store for Mrs. Ray, during which she was to be dependent for care and sustenance upon the child she had undervalued and ill-treated. From that child to whom she had given life, she was to receive the still greater blessing of being gently led towards the life eternal.
Mary’s days and nights of watching, and words of holy comfort, fell like the noiseless dew on the heart of the mother, till at last, remorse was exchanged for repentance, and the cold alienation of a sinful heart, for the loving trust of one, forgiven through the “Only Mediator.”
Meanwhile, Daph went cheerfully and industriously on, providing for the physical wants of the children so dear to her; while Rose, with almost a mother’s love, led them in the way of truth and moulded them by her sweet influence. Little by little she managed to throw an air of refinement about the humble room where they dwelt, and to add many comforts and luxuries to their hitherto simple way of life. She advised Daph as to their plain but tasteful style of dress, and gave to their manners that nameless charm of delicacy and true politeness, which Daph felt herself so unable to describe, or impart.
While Louise grew tall, graceful and attractive, and Charlie’s ruddy face was bright with frank cheerfulness, Rose fancied that Daph’s step waxed feeble, and her figure less straight than in the first days of their acquaintance.
When Rose expressed anxiety about the health of the poor negro, to whom she was really strongly attached, Daph would answer with a smile:
“Daph do be a bit older, Miss Rose; but nebber you fret for her. De great Lord wont take her away yet, she most sure. Nebber you mind Daph; she do be well enough—and oh, so happy!”
The upward glance of the eye of honest Daph, told of the source of her happiness, and the spring of her faithful, conscientious life.