The time that Rosalie waited in the arbor seemed very, very long to her. Every minute was like an hour, and at the least sound she started from her seat, and looked down the gravel path. But it was only a bird, or a falling leaf, or some other tariffing sound, which Rosalie’s anxious ears had exaggerated.
But at last, when the sound she had been listening for so long did really come, when footsteps were heard on the gravel path coming towards the arbor, Rosalie sat still, until they drew close, for in a moment all the fears she had had by the way returned upon her.
They were very quick and eager footsteps which Rosalie heard, and in another moment, almost before she knew that her Aunt Lucy had entered the arbor, she found herself locked in her arms.
“Oh, my little Rosalie,” said she, with a glad cry, “have I found you at last?”
Jessie had told Mrs. Leslie that it was Norah’s child who was waiting to speak to her in the arbor.
Rosalie could not speak. For a long time after that she was too full of feeling for any words. And her Aunt Lucy could only say, over and over again, “My little Rosalie, have I found you at last?” It seemed to Rosalie more like what the Good Shepherd said of His lost sheep than anything she had ever heard before.
“Have you been looking for me, Aunt Lucy?” she said at last.
“Yes, darling, indeed I have!” said her aunt. “Ever since Jessie came back I have been trying to find out where you were. I wanted so much to see your mother, but before I arrived at the place she was dead. I saw her grave, Rosalie, darling; I heard about her dying in the fair; and my husband found out where she was buried, and we went and stood by her grave. And ever since then, dear child, I have been looking for you, but I had lost all clue to you, and was almost giving it up in despair. But I’ve found you now, darling and I am so very thankful.”
Rosalie opened her bag and took out the precious letter. How her Aunt Lucy’s hand trembled as she opened it! It was like getting a letter from another world! And then she began to read, but her eyes were so full of tears she could hardly see the words.
My Own Darling Sister:
I am writing this letter with the faint hope that Rosalie may one day give it to you. It ought not to be a faint hope, because I have turned it so often into a prayer. Oh, how many times have I thought of you since last we met, how often in my dreams you have come to me and spoken to me!
I am too ill and too weak to write much, but I want to tell you that your many prayers for me have been answered at last. The lost sheep has been found, and has been carried back to the fold. I think I am the greatest sinner that ever lived, and yet I believe my sins are washed away in the blood of Jesus.
I would write more, but am too exhausted. But I want to ask you (if it is possible for you to do so) to save my sweet Rosalie from her mother’s fate. She is such a dear child. I know you would love her, and I am so very unhappy about leaving her among all these temptations.
I know I do not deserve any favor from you, and you cannot think what pain it gives me to think how often you have been asked for money in my name! That has been one of the greatest trials of my unhappy life.
But if you can save my little Rosalie, oh, dear sister, I think even in heaven I shall know it, and be more glad. I would ask you to do it, not for my sake, for I deserve nothing but shame and disgrace, but for the sake of Him who has said, “Whoso shall receive one such little child in My name receiveth Me.”
Your loving sister,
NORAH
“When did your mother write the letter, Rosalie?” Aunt Lucy asked, as soon as she could speak after she had finished reading it.
Rosalie told her that it was written only a few days before her mother died. And then she put her hand inside her dress, and brought out the locket, which she laid in Mrs. Leslie’s hand.
“Do you remember that, Aunt Lucy?” she said.
“Yes, darling, I do,” said her aunt. “I gave that to your mother years ago, before she left home. I remember I saved up my money a very long time that I might buy it.”
“My mother did love that locket so much,” said the child. “She said she had promised you she would keep it as long as she lived, and I was to tell you she had kept her promise, and had hidden it away, lest anyone should take it from her. I have tried so hard to keep it safe since she died, but we have been in a great big lodging house all the winter, and I was so afraid it would be found and taken from me.”
“Where is your father now, Rosalie?” asked her aunt anxiously. “He’s dead,” said the child. “He has been dead more than a week.” And she told of the accident and the death in the hospital.
“Then you are my little girl now, Rosalie,” said Aunt Lucy, “my own little girl, and no one can take you from me.”
“Oh, Aunt Lucy, may I really stay?”
“Why, Rosalie darling, I have been looking for you everywhere, and my only fear was that your father would not want to part with you. But now, before we talk any more, you must come in and see your uncle. He is very anxious to see you.”
Rosalie’s uncle received her very kindly, and said, with a pleasant smile, that he was glad the little prairie flower had been found at last, and was to blossom in his garden.
“May is away from home,” said Mrs. Leslie, “she is staying with your Uncle Gerald. She will be glad to see you when she returns.”
That afternoon the child sat on a stool at her Aunt Lucy’s feet, and they had a long talk, which little Rosalie enjoyed more than words can tell. She gave her aunt a little history of her life going back as far as she could remember. Oh, how eagerly Mrs. Leslie listened to anything about her poor sister! How many questions she asked, and how many tears she shed!
When Rosalie had finished, her aunt told her once more how glad and thankful she was to have her there.
The child slipped her hand in that of her Aunt Lucy when she said this, with a very loving and assuring smile.
“So now, Rosalie dear, you must look upon me as your mother,” said Mrs. Leslie. “You must tell me all your troubles, and ask me for anything you want, just as you would have asked your own dear mother.”
“Please Aunt Lucy,” said Rosalie, gratefully, “I think the pasture is very green indeed.”
“What do you mean my dear child?”
“I mean, Aunt Lucy, I have been very lonely and often very miserable lately; but the Good Shepherd has brought me at last to a very green pasture. Don’t you think He has?”
Mrs. Leslie could only answer the little girl by taking her in her arms and kissing her.
The next morning, when Rosalie opened her eyes, she could not at first remember where she was. She had been dreaming she was in the dismal lodging house, and that Betsey Ann was touching her hand, and waking her for their ten minutes’ reading.
She jumped out of bed, and went to the window to look out. The garden beneath her looked very lovely in the bright morning sunshine. The roses and geraniums and jessamine were just in their glory, and underneath the trees she could see patches of lovely fern and mosses. How she wished her mother could have been there to see them, also! She had always loved flowers so much.
Rosalie dressed herself, and went out into the garden. How sweet and peaceful everything seemed! She went to the gate which she had looked through a year before and gazed out into the blue distance. As she was doing so, she heard the sound of wheels, and three or four caravans bound for Pendleton fair went slowly down the road.
What a rush of feeling came over the child as she looked at them! Oh, how kind the Good Shepherd had been to her! Here she was, safe and sheltered in this quiet, happy home; and she would never, never, have to go to a fair or theater again. Rosalie looked up at the blue sky above, and said from the bottom of her heart, “O Good Shepherd, I do thank Thee very much for bringing me to the green pasture. Oh, help me to love Thee and please Thee more than ever. Amen.”
Rosalie’s first week in the green pasture passed by very happily. She walked and read and talked with her Aunt Lucy, and went with her to see the poor people in the village, and grew to love her more day by day, and was more and more thankful to the Good Shepherd for the green pasture to which he had brought her.
After a week May came home. Such a bright little creature she was. Rosalie loved her as soon as she saw her. But it was no strange face to Rosalie. It was a face she had often gazed at and often studied, for little May was the image of the girl in the locket; it might have been her own picture, she was so like what her mother was at her age.
May and Rosalie were the best friends at once, and from that time had everything in common. They did their lessons together, they talked together, and they played together.
Rosalie did not grow tired of her green pasture, nor did she wish to wander into the wide world beyond. As she grew older, and saw from what she had been saved, she became more and more thankful.
She was not easily deceived by the world’s glitter and glare and vain show; for Rosalie had been behind the scenes, and knew how empty and hollow and miserable everything worldly was.
She had learned lessons behind the scenes that she would not easily forget. She had learned that we must not trust to outward appearances. She had learned that aching hearts are often hidden behind the world’s smiling faces. She had learned that there is no real, no true, no lasting joy in anything of this world. She had learned that whosoever drinketh of such water the water of this world’s pleasures and amusements shall thirst again; but she had also learned that whosoever drinketh of the water which the Lord Jesus Christ gives shall never thirst, but shall be perfectly happy and satisfied. She had learned that the only way of safety, the only way of true happiness, was to be found in keeping near to the Good Shepherd, in hearkening to His voice, and in following His footsteps very closely.