Chapter VIII: Hope Deferred-Faith Justified

"HAVE you not heard yet, Kate?" asked nurse, as she noted the girl's disappointed face, after opening the door to the postman on the tenth morning after her letter went.

Kate shook her head.

"Then depend on it Mrs. Bateson is from home."

"But, think how long it is since my letter went. When she is away, the letters are always forwarded. She must have had mine before now, and she is not going to answer."

Ashley would not agree to this. Her faith was stronger than Kate's, though she had never seen the object of it.

"Depend on it, if Mrs. Bateson has got your letter, she is trying to hear of something before answering it. Places of the sort you want are not quite so common as blackberries," said Ashley.

This was reasonable enough, and Kate replied, "I dare say you are right, only it would have been more like Mrs. Bateson to send me just a line, to tell me as much.

"I am beginning to be afraid that I shall not be fit for a place of any sort, if I get no stronger. I can hardly keep on, and when there is company beside, what I shall do, I know not."

Two days later, and Kate, all unconscious of what was going on around her, was lying in a sick ward in the Infirmary.

She had broken down hopelessly, and, as Mrs. Maybrick said, "At the most inconvenient time possible. On the very day before visitors were expected to be a servant short, and with only a few hours in which to look for another, was enough to try the patience of an angel.

"What to do with the girl I cannot tell, for the doctor forbids a railway journey, and her friends live—I really forget where—if I had any one to send with her."

This difficulty was solved by Mr. Maybrick, who, more pitiful than his wife, arranged for Kate's admission to the Infirmary, and made himself responsible for the expenses incurred on her behalf.

Thus it happened, that when Mrs. Bateson's letter came, the girl was not in a condition to receive it.

Fortunately, Ashley was on the look out for the precious missive, feeling always convinced that it would come, or it might have been carelessly laid aside and never reached Kate's hand at all.

The nurse would have liked to take it to the Infirmary herself, but this Mrs. Maybrick would not allow, though there was nothing infectious in her late housemaid's illness.

"You must not think of it, nurse," she said. "Who knows what you might bring home to the children by going to such a place, even if Kate's illness is not of that character?"

Ashley could only obey, but she wished to serve the girl, and as she knew the name and address of the lady who conducted the Bible-class, she ventured to call on her, and told her story.

"The grey-haired lady," as Kate called her, Mrs. Ashton, was ready both to listen and to help.

She had, from the first, felt greatly interested in her country scholar, and thus it happened that, when Kate became aware of what was passing around her, the first familiar face she saw by her bed was Mrs. Ashton's. She gave a little cry of gladness, but had to be contented to be still and listen, instead of trying to talk. Only between her thin fingers was placed a letter, addressed in the well-known writing of Mrs. Bateson.

That letter was better than medicine to the invalid. It was full of kind words and promises of help. Nay, there was even the assurance of a suitable place for Kate, so soon as she could be honourably free to leave Mrs. Maybrick's service.

At this, the tears came into the girl's eyes. Alas! She was not fit to undertake the lightest duties, and when would she be? Perhaps never again.

She was not allowed to dwell on the dark side. A sweet-faced nurse whispered hopeful words, which were but an echo of the doctor's. Only time, patience, and good nursing were wanted. Then a stay at a convalescent home in the country, and she would be as well as she had ever been in her life.

It was such a comfort to hear this, and to know, beside, that the delay in answering her letter was owing to Mrs. Bateson's absence. She, her husband, and eldest children had been travelling on the Continent, and moving about from place to place, so that they did not receive letters regularly.

Mrs. Ashton undertook to write, on Kate's behalf, both to her former mistress and her mother. And then the girl, glad and thankful beyond expression, could only lie quietly, and obey to the best of her power the injunction to get well as fast as she could.

Having youth on her side, she made good progress, and her heart was cheered from time to time by news from Heyington and home. The place would be kept for her until she was fit for it.

This news seemed almost too good to be true, but if Mrs. Bateson "said" it, there could be no room for fear or doubt.

The day came when Kate was considered well enough to be removed to the convalescent home, and carefully wrapped and prepared for the journey, she was conveyed to the railway station.

"I am going to see you safe to the end," said the pleasant-faced nurse. And Kate thought this was not the usual way of sending patients, who went from the Infirmary, a batch at a time, in a sort of omnibus, as the Home was but a few miles out of Manchester.

She said something of this to the nurse, who smiled in reply, and told her that was not the Home they were going to.

"We go by train. A good friend of yours has settled all for you." And the nurse busied herself in making Kate comfortable in a first-class carriage.

"Are you taking me to mother?" asked Kate, wistfully.

"Not to your own home. It would not do for you yet. If you could get a sleep now, it would help you over the journey nicely."

And Kate, weak and easily wearied, did go to sleep, and only awoke when the train stopped amid scenes familiar to her eyes.

Surely this was Heyington! And that must be the carriage from the Hall waiting for somebody, just outside the gate.

Nearer still, on the platform, and looking eagerly towards the train stood—yes, there could be no mistake about it—Kate's mother. There she was, with a whole world of love in her eyes, waiting to welcome her child, given back, it seemed, from the very verge of the grave, to her loving arms.

Neither Mrs. Evans nor Kate will ever forget the joy of that moment.

Mrs. Bateson might well be envied for having both the power and the will to make two people so intensely happy, as were this mother and daughter.

Their happiness did not end with the meeting. It hangs about them still, though years have passed since that bright day. It has grown with each year, and Kate's store of precious memories increases every day.

Well, the girl found out for whom the carriage was sent to meet the train she arrived by. It was to take her in the easiest way to the Hall, which was to be first her "convalescent home," then her permanent one. Kate's successor had not proved efficient, and it was her old place that was being kept for her until she was able to take it.

Truly Mrs. Bateson's goodness justified Nurse Ashley's faith. She did not forgive by halves, but strove both to pardon, restore, and bless.

Need it be told that Kate learned a lesson during her time of weakness and suffering that she never afterwards forgot, learned to value what she had once been indifferent about—the Christian mistress, the well-ordered home, and the peaceful Sabbaths, which are God's good gifts for the refreshment of weary bodies and longing souls.

Mrs. Bateson and her family have ever since had the most self-devoting service from Kate, and the good mistress of the Hall has never regretted that, following the example of her Divine Master, she was enabled to forgive fully and freely.

Kate has not forgotten Nurse Ashley's kindness to her, and now this good friend's young daughter is under-housemaid at Heyington. Kate has the higher place, and strives, by being a true friend to Margaret Ashley, to repay in some degree the goodwill shown to her by the mother.

More than one suitor has thought what a good wife Kate Evans would make, but so far she has not been won. She is very happy, and in no hurry to leave Mrs. Bateson's service.

So we, instead, will leave her where we found her, only adding that she has a mind at ease about her mother and those who are still left in her cottage home. Blessed with strength to work and work to do, they are equally happy and useful.