“He did, with his own dear little hand—Amai! amai-ai!” and the woman’s voice gave expression to one swell of agony, and then died away in a low wail, like that which proceeded from the adjoining room. Presently she resumed, “I was his mother’s nurse. She got this book of you, sir. We thought my master burned it, but he kept, and maybe studied it. Do you think that he became a true believer?”
“To whom did he shiko at the last moment, Mah-aa?”
“To the Lord Jesus Christ—I am sure of that. Do you think the Lord would receive him, sir?”
“Do you ever read about the thief who was crucified with the Saviour?”
“Oh, yes; I read it to Moung-Moung this very day. He was holding his mother’s book when the disease smote him; and he kept it in his hand, and went up, with it lying on his bosom. Yes, I remember.”
“The Lord Jesus Christ is just as merciful now as he was then.”
“And so they are all——oh, ’ken-payah! it is almost too much to believe!”
“When did you first become acquainted with this religion, Mah-aa?”
“My mistress taught me, sir; and made me promise to teach her baby when he was old enough; and to go to you for more instruction. But I was alone, and afraid. I sometimes got as far as the big banyan tree on the corner, and crawled away again so trembling with terror, that I could scarcely stand upon my feet. At last I found out Ko Shway-bay, and he promised to keep my secret; and he gave me books, and explained their meaning, and taught me how to pray, and I have been getting courage ever since. I should not much mind now, if they did find me out and kill me. It would be very pleasant to go up to Paradise. I think I should even like to go to-night, if the Lord would please to take me.”
It was two or three weeks before the missionary resumed his customary place in the zayat by the wayside. His hearers were scattered widely; in the neighboring jungles, in far-off towns, and in that other place from whence “no traveller returns.”