"I kept quite still; what could I say?
"'John, I'm too weak to read now; won't you read a bit to me, and give me a little comfort before I die——if there is any for me?'
"Not for years had I touched the book she spoke of, and where to find it now I did not know; but I hunted round, for I thought, if this will give her ease, I'm bound to try; and at last I found it behind the tea-tray. I asked her where to read; she said anywhere. So I opened and read where Jesus went into a house in which a little child lay dead; how the people mocked and jeered Him when He said she slept (and I looked at our poor Meg, so white and pained, wondering if He would have come to her); how Jesus took that little girl's hand, her cold, dead hand, and said, 'Arise.'
"'Oh, John, if He were only here to speak to Meg and make her well!' said Alice.
"'Perhaps it's only a tale,' I said——and stopped.
"'No, John,' said Alice. 'When I was well I could live and not think much of Him; but since I've been ill He seems very real to me sometimes; even now, John, I believe He is here!'
"Mates, that was a cold, dark night, and the wind howled outside, the fire was all but out, and the candle flickered about with the draught. I tell you I felt bad, for her words did seem so full of meaning, her eyes almost looked me through.
"'John, if He's here, He can save our Meg. John dear, won't you ask Him? Won't you pray?'
"'Alice, I can't; I don't know how.'
"'Husband, look at the darling; think of her——of her! John, try. Oh, John, try!'"