CHAPTER XII.
SALOME'S RECOVERY.
IT was the night on which Salome seemed most ill; indeed, her face looked so altered and strange, that I thought every breath might be her last. I felt sure that the angel of death was in the room that night.
He was in the room, but it was not for Salome that he had come. Little Jude was taken, and Salome was left. And two days afterwards the angel of death came again, and Bartholomew was taken; and then after a few more days, Simon and Thomas were taken, and still Salome was left. But the doctor still would give very little hope; she might pull through, he said, but he did not think it was likely that she would.
That was a terrible time for us all.
It was a terrible time for my poor father, for he loved his children very deeply, and after he and I had followed one little coffin after another to the grave, he would come home and sit for hours with his head resting on his hands, not speaking a word, but full of sorrowful thought.
It was a terrible time for my poor mother. I felt sure she would be ill when it was all over. She had cried bitterly when little Jude was taken; but after that she seemed as if she could not cry, as if her tears were locked up, and as if she were doing everything she did in her sleep. Indeed, I believe it seemed to her more like an awful dream than a real trouble.
Poor father and mother, they had no heavenly comforter; the Lord was not at that time their Friend and their Saviour! But this very sorrow, which seemed the worst thing which could have happened to us, was to be used by God to bring them to Himself.
One night—I think it was the night after Simon and Thomas had been laid in the grave—we were sitting in Salome's room. She was conscious now, and the fever had quite left her; but she was very weak—so weak that I was afraid to let her talk; so weak that she was as helpless as a little baby. Matthew was much better; he had not had the fever so badly as the others, and he was sitting up in bed.
"There seems nothing to do," said mother that night, as she sat by the fire in her black dress; and for the very first time since little Jude had died she burst into tears.
I knew it would do her good to cry, so I did not stop her, but I laid my head on her shoulder, and we cried together, and my father, who was sitting near Salome's bed, groaned aloud.
We sat in silence for a long time, and we thought Salome was asleep, for she had her eyes shut, but she suddenly opened them, and said:
"Read a bit, please, dear Peter."
I took up her Testament and read aloud:
"The Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:
"Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.
"Wherefore comfort one another with these words."
"Don't you wish Jesus would come to-night, father," said Salome, "and bring Simon, and Thomas, and Bartholomew, and Jude with Him? We would all go flying up to meet them then; wouldn't we, father?"
My father did not speak; but he took hold of Salome's thin hand and kissed it.
"She's always talking about that, Peter," said my mother. "Ever since you gave her that Testament, her head has been running on that.
"'Mother,' she says, 'would the angels take you?'
"'Jude,' she says, 'would you be taken, or left?'
"'Thomas,' she says, 'wouldn't it be nice if Jesus came to-day?'
"And the boys listened to her wonderful; they did, indeed. Simon, he talked a deal about it just before he died, and about his sins being washed away. I don't know much about it," said poor mother, crying more than ever; "I've toiled, and worked, and slaved to get you food and clothes, and to keep you clean and decent. But I haven't thought about these things as I should, and it seems to me, if the Lord was to come, the angels would be carrying you all away, and leaving me behind."
"And me!" said father, with another groan.
"Oh, no!" said little Salome, with all the strength she had. "Father and mother must come, too; mustn't they, Peter? Kneel down and ask Jesus to wash their sins away, and then He won't forget to send the angels for them when He comes in the sky."
So I knelt down and said a very simple little prayer; and when I rose from my knees both my father and mother were crying.
They said nothing more then, but I have every reason to believe that they did indeed come to the Lord Jesus as their Saviour that very night, and that, from that time, both father and mother loved and served the Lord Jesus, and longed for His appearing, feeling sure that in that great day they would be taken, and not left.
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