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fur collar. "It's just . . . just . . ." she sniffed and searched for a handkerchief in her pocketbook, "that I couldn't think of anything else but you, deah. I kept thinking you wouldn't come back once you got home again. I lived every day in feah and didn't feel like doing anything. Celia neahly tossed me out she was so annoyed with me, but I . . . I just couldn't help it."
Belinda reached out to take her employer's hand, passing along her handkerchief. "That's all right," she comforted. "I'm here. I came back just as I said I would."
"I'm so glad. So glad," breathed the older woman. "Now things can get back to normal again."
Normal? thought Belinda. She had just moved back and forth between two very different worlds. What, she wondered, is normal?
But things did fall back into a daily routine. The two women picked up where they had left off, sharing their meals, their handwork, their reading, their lives. Little by little they spoke about some of the experiences of their time apart, too. It seemed that the one had been as miserable as the other--but for quite different reasons.
The windy fall days turned to winter chill, and snow began to pile up on Thomas's flower beds. This time there was no discussion of a trip abroad to avoid the winter. They knew
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without saying it that they both had consented to suffer it through. Belinda realized she was already looking forward to spring even as she saw the winds tuck the flowers away under their snowy blankets for the winter.
Belinda kept her promise to her mother. Each week she wrote a lengthy letter home and looked forward to the reply that was sure to come. She shared the letters with Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, who seemed to enjoy them almost as much as Belinda did.
When Christmas came, they celebrated with strangers again. In its own way, it was a joyous time. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had enjoyed planning the holiday event and having the festive table surrounded by dinner guests. Their guests, too, appreciated the time spent in the lovely big house with the kind woman and her staff.
But for Belinda the most special moments occurred each day as the two of them spent time together studying the Bible. Since her trip to New York, Mrs. Stafford-Smyth seemed much more aware and sensitive to spiritual things. Belinda wondered if something particular had happened there.
But her employer never said anything about such an event. Belinda held her tongue but continued to wonder--and to pray.
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ELEVEN
An Exciting Event
Belinda knew her folks at home were praying with her for Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. Each morning as the two studied a Bible lesson together, Belinda watched closely for glimmers of understanding on the part of the older woman.
Mrs. Stafford-Smyth did listen attentively. She also attended church services regularly. But Belinda could not help feeling that the woman did not really capture the true significance of the Christian faith. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth seemed to feel that if one tried to be good--was more good than sinful--then hopefully God's scales would tip in the person's favor.
Belinda selected Scriptures dealing with the sacrificial death of the Savior, the need for a personal faith, the glorious hope of heaven because of what Christ Jesus did on the sinner's behalf. But though the woman looked sincere, each Bible lesson seemed to fall on unhearing ears. Belinda thought often of Christ's parable of the seed and the sower. She wondered if Mrs. Stafford-Smyth would ever choose to be "good ground" for the truth or if the evil one would always snatch the seed away before it had a chance to root--to grow
Belinda prayed more earnestly and searched more diligently for appropriate Scriptures.
One Sunday morning as Easter approached, Belinda left the morning worship feeling rather dry and empty. The sermon,
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though it had referred to the Cross and what it meant for sinful mankind, seemed without energy--truth, certainly, but without life or passion. It left much to be
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