“You might have caught the measles anyhow.”
“O yes, I might; I know that. And then I should have known it was God’s sending; but now I know I brought it on myself. So good of you all not to reproach me.”
“Maimie, you must not let the thought be a trouble to you,” I said.
“No,” she answered at once, with a smile. “O no; because I think I did mean rightly at the moment. And I have prayed; and the Lord Jesus will forgive, won’t He? Because He is faithful and just to forgive us’—you know.”
“Faithful according to His promises,” I said softly.
“Yes—promises. He has promised all who come to Him, I needn’t be afraid. Aunt Marion, if I shouldn’t get better, you will know that,—you will know that He is my Saviour—my own Saviour.”
“It is such a happy thing to be able to say so,” I whispered.
“Yes; oh, He is; I know He is. But I don’t feel impatient now, as I once did. I have such a dear home. Only if I must leave my home, I would rather not leave it to live with father.”
“We mustn’t be bent upon choosing for ourselves,” I said.
“No; to be willing, whatever God sends,” she said earnestly, and she clasped her hands. “Well, I think I am willing. I do want not to be wilful. That has always been my fault; and it brings punishment sometimes.”