A WILLING SACRIFICE.
ON the next day, Molly awoke from the stupor in which she had lain for
so many hours. Her mind was clear and calm. She could not recall all
that had happened, but she knew that she was very ill, and she seemed
to know also that she could not get well.
"I shall go away as father did," she said, confidently.
And Kathleen's hopeful words could not persuade her otherwise. When
told of her uncle's coming, she took the news very quietly.
"Jesus has sent him to take care of us," she said gently, with a glad
light in her deep, dark eyes.
Her uncle would have liked to remove the little sufferer to more
comfortable quarters, but the doctor declared that to be impossible. In
the little attic where she had toiled and sorrowed, her young spirit
was to gain its release from toil and woe.
"Molly, dear," her uncle said to her, during the course of that day,
most of which he spent by her bedside, "tell me what more I can do for
you. Is there nothing you wish?"
"Only one thing," answered little Molly, "and I don't know whether
you can do it, but if it could be managed, I should so like to see my
minister again."
"We will see," said her uncle, who had heard Molly speak of the
minister to whose words she had loved to listen; "I'll try to find out
where he lives, and ask him to come to you."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Molly, and her face beamed with joy.
"Kathleen," she said to her sister, when their uncle had gone out;
"Kathleen, I feel so happy about the future."
"Do you, Molly?" said Kathleen, with a look of wonder.
"I see it all so plain," said the child; "nothing could be better.
Uncle has been talking to me. He says he has plenty of money, and he
will always take care of you. And he will have you taught all the
things you ought to learn; you'll be quite a lady, Kathleen, just what
you wished, you know."
"I don't wish it now," said Kathleen; "I only want to see you get well."
"I shall never get well," said little Molly; "I asked uncle, and he
said Jesus would come and take me to Himself. And I'm so glad to go,
Kathleen. It's so much better, you see. I'm such an ugly, crooked
child. I should never be anything but poor little Molly. A little
hunchback, some one called me—who was it said so? Oh, it's so much
better I should go away. I shan't be a little hunchback then."
"Oh, Molly, I cannot bear it!" sobbed Kathleen, in bitter anguish.
"I cannot bear to lose you thus. It is all my fault. But for my
unkindness, my 'wickedness,' you might be well now. You have given your
life to save me from harm."
"Jesus gave His life for us all," the child murmured; "He died to save
us. I did not believe it once. I thought it was only a made-up story.
But it's all real true. I know it now. It's all real true. Kathleen,
you 'will' believe in Jesus now, won't you?"
"Oh, Molly," Kathleen confessed, "I might have believed before, but I
did not 'want' to."
"But you will now," urged her sister; "you'll let Jesus be your Friend?"
"If He will," replied Kathleen; "but I'm so wicked. It would serve me
right if He would have nothing to do with me."
"But He loves you," said Molly, "and He will make you good."
She was so weak that it tired her to talk long. She said no more now,
but lay still, holding Kathleen's hand tightly in her tiny wasted
fingers.
Kathleen sat by her side, shedding bitter tears as she mused over the
past. Sad and solemn were her thoughts in that quiet hour. Presently
she heard a tap at the door. Kathleen rose and opened the door, and
after a whispered talk with some one outside, came back to her sister.
"It is Ned Jones, Molly," she said; "he does so want to see you. Could
you bear to speak to him for one minute?"
"Oh yes, let him come in," said Molly; "I should like to see Ned."
Ned came in with a sad, subdued look.
"Poor little Molly," he said, as he took her tiny hand into his large,
brown palm, and gently patted it, "poor little Molly! I'm so sorry to
see you thus."
"Don't be sorry for me," she answered; "I'm happy, Ned. Jesus makes me
happy. It's all real true about Him. You must never say again that it
is only a make-believe."
"I never will," Nod replied, earnestly.
"Jesus will make you happy, Ned, if you will let Him," she said; "He
loves you, Ned; oh, won't you love Him too?"
"I will try," he murmured. And then, strong manly fellow that he was,
he burst into tears, and Kathleen was obliged to hurry him from the
room, lest the sight of his emotion should distress Molly.
But the child lay back on her pillow with a happy smile upon her face,
and did not seem the worse for Ned's visit.
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