"No, you will not," Flossy said, her voice aglow with feeling and with joy. "Oh, Ruthie, Ruthie! There _is_ no night! You have got beyond it. I tell you, you have come into God's light! And isn't it blessed? You are a Christian now."
"But," protested Ruth, utterly bewildered, "I do not understand you, and I don't think you understand yourself. In what way am I different from what I was yesterday? How can I be lost in God's sight one moment and accepted the next?"
"Easily; oh, _so_ easily! Don't you see? Why, if I had been coaxing you for a year to give me something, and you had steadily refused, but if suddenly you had said to me, 'Yes. I will; I have changed my mind; I will give it to you,' wouldn't there be a difference? Wouldn't I know that I was to have it? And couldn't I thank you then, and tell you how glad I was, just the same as though I had it in my hand? It is a poor little illustration, Ruthie, but it is true that God has been calling you all your life, and if you have all the time been saying 'No,' up to that moment when you said solemnly, meaning it with all your heart, 'I will,' I tell you it makes a difference."
I can not describe to you how strangely all this sounded to Ruthie. Up to this moment she had not realized in the least that the Lord was asking her simply for a decision, and that having solemnly given it, the work, so far as _she_ was concerned, was done, and the new relations instantly commenced. She thought it over--that sudden calming of heart--that sense of resolve--of determination, so strong, and yet so quiet. She remembered what a strange day it had been. How she had tried to keep before her mind the horror of the night, and had not been able.
She went on talking with Flossy, telling her about Charlie Flint, noticing the happy tears that glistened in Flossy's eyes as she received her message, taking in the murmured words, "To think that Christ would honor such a feeble little witnessing as that!" and realizing even then that it would be very blessed to have one say to her, "You have been the means of leading me to think about this thing." Why should _she_ care, though, whether people thought about this thing or not? Yesterday she didn't. During all the talk she kept up this little undertone of thought, this running commentary on her sudden change of views and feelings, and wondered, and _wondered_, could it be possible that she was utterly changed? And yet, when she came to think of it, wasn't she? Didn't she love Christ? And then it struck her as the strangest thing in the world _not_ to love him. How could any one be so devoid of heart as that? Why, a mere man, to have done one-half of what Christ had done for her, would have received undying love and service.