Well, we asked her – she was about 13 years old then – if she would like to come with us and meet an old lady to whom we had been referred, and I have to tell you, she was not too keen. She rolled her eyes and glanced quickly towards her mother to see if there was some way out. But there wasn’t and so she came, all the way, in perfect silence, making it known that she had no desire whatever to come, that we were wasting her time and that we were so uncool.

By the time we arrived it was already getting late, and after the sun set it became quite cold. We were all glad to see the warm glow of a fire and to get out of the wind.

Justine, for that was her name, was visibly surprised by the welcome she received. It wasn’t at all like she had expected. Instead of, “My, how you’ve grown!” and “Aren’t you a proper young lady now!” she was greeted with genuine warmth and the sort of respect that made her feel (for the first time) that perhaps she didn’t really deserve it. The lady was a lot older too than she had expected, but taller and with more energy than old people usually have. Her white hair was tied back, and the eyes were gentle but very bright. She had what looked like a scar high up on one cheek and walked with a slight limp, though she didn’t seem to be in any pain, and she certainly was not complaining.

Justine was by now feeling that perhaps her time was not being entirely wasted, and couldn’t help staring at the old lady in a way that seemed both eager and a little afraid at the same time. There was something very attractive about her face, not the sort of beauty you see in magazines of course, but something much deeper and she began to feel that this was beauty more worth having. But at the same time she felt uneasy, and she didn’t know why – as if she didn’t really belong there, even though she felt more welcome than she had ever felt anywhere. But she kept remembering things – things she had said about people, times she had lied to friends, bits of gossip and so on.

By the time we had cleaned up after dinner is was already late and we were shown to our rooms. Justine was given the room near the top of the stairs and just across from the old lady’s room.

But she told me later she couldn’t sleep at all, even though the bed was ever so comfortable. When the house was completely quiet and sleep seemed impossible, she slipped quietly down the stairs and into the sitting room where the fire was still in the hearth and giving out a faint warm glow. She dropped into a chair and stared into the coals.

Before long she heard someone coming down the stairs and she sunk into the lounge hoping not to be noticed. It was the old lady. She went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water and then went over by the window, behind the girl, kneeled on some cushions that must have been there for the purpose, and remained still and very quite.

Justine was embarrassed by this and felt trapped. She couldn’t go back to her room without being seen, and to stay there, hardly daring to breathe, was agony. Before long the lady began to whisper something. Then she began to speak in a very soft and gentle voice, and when Justine heard her own name she almost gave herself away. She could not hear what was said, but it was spoken so gently and it seemed even with tears, that she herself felt the tears in her own eyes. Her tears, she told me later, were because she began to see her own selfish life for the first time and she hated it. She saw a mean, deceitful, rude and very proud person who was so ugly she just wanted to shrivel up and die.

But instead of that, she did something that she still can’t explain. She opened her mouth and said in a whisper, “Help me.” The old lady stopped praying and quietly came over, put her arms around her and they wept together. And then they talked late into the night.

When we came down to breakfast Justine was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that she was sleeping in we started to eat. The old lady was very bright, though as I looked up at her she seemed rather tired. But her face was shining and I noticed she was gazing up the stairs. I turned to look and saw Justine coming down, with, I have to say, the most wonderful look of peaceful happiness on her face, and even a smile. We were all a bit taken back, wondering what it all meant.

She sat down with us, apologised for being late and began to eat quietly, though obviously her mind was elsewhere. Then suddenly, she jumped up, rushed over to the old lady and threw her arms around her neck in an explosion of joy and love and gratitude.

“Its true, its true, I know its true! He loves me and I love Him and everything is gone now. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Now that is the end of this story, but only the beginning of another…