"But will God be merciful to ME?" cried Ida, in a tone of sharp agony.
The old man came to he side, and placing his hands on her head spoke with almost the authority and solemnity of one of God's ancient prophets.
"Yes, my child, yes, he will be merciful unto you—he will forgive you. But in your deep need you require more than the assurance of a poor sinful mortal like yourself. Listen to God's own word: 'Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.'
"'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.'
"'If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins; and the blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin.' God answers your question himself, my child."
"Oh, may He bless you for your kindness to me! It has saved me from despair and death," sobbed Ida, burying her face in her hands, and giving way to the natural expression of feeling that ever relieves a heart that has long been overburdened.
For a few moments Mr. Eltinge said nothing, but gently stroked the bowed head as he might caress a daughter of his own. At last he asked, with a voice that was broken from sympathy with her emotion,
"How about my Master, whose kind providence has brought all this about?"
Ida gradually became more quiet, and as soon as she could trust herself to speak she lifter her head and answered:
"Mr. Eltinge, I think I can learn to love God as you portray him to me. But in my imperfection and wickedness I have not dared to think of him till I came here."