"Are you?" she asked, her eyes full of the deepest longing. "You cannot know how awful it is to me to think of her being taken to the workhouse!"
"If you tell Jesus about it, He will see to her."
"I have told Him; but, oh, I deserve it all! Did you know, did I tell you, if I had not fainted, or been brought here, I and my baby would be lying now in the cold, dark river? Think of that!"
"Dreadful," said the nurse, shuddering; "but you are sorry now, my dear?"
"Very sorry," said the poor creature, her eyes filling with long dried-up tears; "I hope He'll forgive me."
"He will, He will," said the nurse earnestly. "He gave His own life to save you, and to bring you to God."
The poor woman was silent and exhausted; and then suddenly she leant towards the nurse, and seizing her hand, kissed it over and over again.
"I am going, I think," she said feebly, falling back, "but you said He died to save me; will He save me after I have been so wicked? How can He love me?"
"He loved you before you felt yourself wicked. Oh, trust Him!"
The woman looked upwards. "I will," she said; "for I have no one else; and please, dear Saviour, take care of my poor little child."