"But I think it would be better," repeated Daisy. "Father would not want me, if I could not work for him, and there is nobody else. No one to take care of me except you, and your husband will want you by-and-by. Don't you think, Nursie, that perhaps I shall die soon?" Daisy did not sob, but her chest heaved quickly, and two large tears fell upon the white sheet.
"I think God knows best what is right for you, dear, and you oughtn't to want to die sooner than it's His will you should," said Mary, hardly able to command her voice.
"Yes, He knows best," said Daisy, tears dropping again. "And He loves me. I haven't been afraid once about dying, all the time I have been ill. It seemed so easy, when I thought of the Lord Jesus dying for me on the Cross. But—Nursie, I do feel afraid of having to live a long while, if I can't stand or work or do anything,—and nobody except father to take care of me. I'd a great deal rather die."
"I wouldn't be afraid," said Mary, leaning over the bed, and trying to smile. "If God is able to take care of you when you die, don't you think He's able to take care of you while you're alive too?"
"Yes,—able," said Daisy in a low voice.
"And don't you think He will, Daisy?"
"I ought to feel sure," said Daisy, with a distressed look. Then she asked quite suddenly, "Nursie, do you love God?"
"I hope so," faltered Mary Davis.
"I mean real love," said Daisy. "I mean the sort of love that makes you want to obey Him, and want to be with Him. You didn't in old days, did you, Nursie?" She always spoke of her childhood's years as "old days."
"No," Mary Davis answered at once, quite decidedly. "I don't say I hadn't a sort of wish to do right, Miss Daisy, but I didn't really try to serve God from my heart, and I don't think I loved Him at all."