Calmly double-stepping into her boudoir, I pushed aside her dangly-bead curtain still half absorbed in my own thoughts and therefore unprepared for her agonizing shriek! Jolted to my senses, I rushed to her side in time to catch her as she fell backward in a faint.
Clutching her, ahem, my letter, to her bosom she muttered incoherently; her eyelids fluttering to beat the band. "Call the doctor!" I shouted urgently to the underling slaves at my disposal. They scurried away at my bidding giving me the chance to discreetly tuck "the letter" away.
Mr. Potiphar, startled by the alarming hullabaloo, galloped in at horse-race speed with the doctor bringing up a close second. Potiphar fumed, fussed and fidgeted wanting to know "the meaning of this commotion".
Innocently, I declared, "My mistress called me in to help her prepare for the night. I was on my way in when she inexplicably shrieked. I'm not sure what the problem is. She collapsed in my arms and there she lays. Whatever will we do, my master?!"
Doctor busied himself taking temp, pulse, BP--doctor stuff, you know. He made up a sedative, injecting some and leaving some tablets to be given orally as needed. "Just let her rest now," said he. "Perhaps come morning we'll get the 'what for' of the matter. If you ask me, Mr. Potiphar, there's been something eating at her for some time. Something must have sparked it off. If we don't get to the bottom of it, well, the news may not be good."
I thought my gasp must have been rather audible but neither man flinched. Safe, for now. I must stay very close to my mistress. Be by her side the moment she awakes. Circumventing the doctor's inquisition is imperative now.
Things were spinning. May the God of Joseph be of help now!
Despite nodding off a few times myself, I still sensed when mistress stirred in the early hours of dawn. She searched about for her letter and I placed it prudently into her hand.
She saw me then. "Oh maid, what am I to do? I don't want anyone to know about this. I trust you and you alone. Is anyone else about?"
I reassured her of our solitude and asked what had alarmed her; telling her I knew she was very troubled lately and have been concerned for her welfare.
"The letter! From whom could it be!? Not HIM, I hope! Oh maid, I'm so scared!"
"What does it say?" I asked, already knowing the answer. terrified!"
"That I must repent!" "That I must forgive myself!" "Who knows my secret sin?"
In as steady a voice as I could muster, I told her, "My mistress, please, for your own good, do what the letter asks, now! The doctor and Mr. Potiphar are coming soon. They want to get to the bottom of your troubles. You cannot avoid the confrontation. They too are concerned for your welfare."
"Please let me help you here and now. We can call on the God we've heard of who created us, for help."
"He is perceived to be a good god. Caring about people and makes them noble and good. (Ha! I didn't dare to say "the God of Joseph" to her.")
"Don't worry about whom the letter is from. Please, just do as it asks! Try this god who's rumored to be so good."
"Do you think He'll actually help??!" she quivered.
"My lady, do try, there's nothing to lose," I ventured.
"Well, what should I say? Do I make sacrifices and offerings? What does He want of me?" she queried aloud, half forgetting I was there.
"I'm not sure but the people who believe in this 'god' seem only to talk simply to Him as if He is right with them in the room. Why not just tell Him what you've got on your conscience and as the letter says, tell him you repent and are sorry for what you did. Ask Him to forgive you and then tell Him you forgive yourself."
I answered in such boldness yet with my heart pounding in fear I'd overstepped the line. But she was so beside herself and actually thinking with unselfish intensity for once, that she was oblivious to what normally would've been considered impertinence. "Phew!" You won't believe what she did next!
She bolted out of bed, actually prostrating herself on the floor, and uttered her story with such pathos; it all tumbled out in one, big truthful lament. Tears were streaming down her contrite face.
I was speechless but rushed to the door to insure her privacy--even from her husband. Well, and um, from myself, too.
At last she quieted down and she softly bid me come. Joy blossomed upon her countenance, and despite the tear-stained cheeks, made her more radiant in beauty than she ever had been.
"It worked!" she exclaimed. "This god is real!" She could barely contain herself.
I was fearful the doc would give her another 'calm-her-down-shot' thinking she'd gone off the other end of the spectrum.
But....she was praising the God of Joseph and I was right glad for her. It made me want to praise Him too!
~ERC~
Click link to Part 3
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