Into the bright sunshine she went, across a clover field, and out at a gate into the white, dusty road. She trotted along, picking flowers by the wayside, and peeping over hedges to look at the tiny lambs or young foals and heifers sporting on the green grass. Everything was new and delightful to her; the birds singing, the budding trees, the bright blue sky, and sweet fresh air, all was filling her little heart with content and happiness. Wandering on, she kept no reckoning of time or distance, until she came to a church in the midst of green elms, and rooks keeping up a perpetual chatteration on the topmost branches of the trees.
Betty was a little afraid of rooks; they were so big and strong and black that she feared they would peck her legs; but she was very tired and warm, and as the church-gate was open she thought she would venture into the cool shade of the elms inside. Her little steps took her to the church porch, and finding the door partly open, with a child's curiosity, she pushed her way in, there to stand with admiring awe in the cool, quiet atmosphere. It was a pretty old church, with stained glass windows; and the sun streaming through sent flashing rays of red and blue, golden and purple, across the old stone walls and oaken seats.
Betty felt she was in another world at once, and the very novelty and strangeness of her surroundings had a great charm for her. Slowly she made her way round the church, looking at every tablet and monument, and trying in vain to decipher the writing upon them. But one amongst them brought her to a standstill: it was the figure of a little girl sculptured in white marble, lying in a recumbent position; her hands were crossed on her breast, with a lily placed between them, her eyes were closed, and her hair curled over her brow and round her shoulders in the most natural way. Just above her was a stained glass window—a beautiful representation of the Saviour taking the children in His arms and blessing them. Below the window was written in plain black letters,—
IN LOVING MEMORY OF VIOLET RUSSELL.
Aged six years.
'Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not.'
Betty drew a deep breath; her thoughts were busy. She wished herself that little girl lying so calm and beautiful, with the red and golden rays slanting across her; and then looking up at the window, she wished still more that she was one of those happy children in the Lord's arms.
Looking up with tearful eyes, she clasped her hands, and let her buttercups and bluebells fall to the ground unheeded.
'O God, I will be good! I will be good!'
Those were all the words uttered, but He who heard them looked down into the overflowing heart, and knew all that lay behind them.
Long the child stood there, and then with flagging footsteps made her way down the aisle.
'I'm very tired,' she murmured to herself; 'I'll just sit down inside that pew.'