"Oh, come, you must not meet trouble half-way," I said. "I am not yet absolutely sure that it is scarlet fever; but if Miss Cottrell is right, you know that numbers of people have that fever who do not die of it."
"But I shall," she persisted. "My mother died of it and my little brother, so I do not suppose I shall escape. But, oh, I do not want to die! I am so frightened, Nan."
Never shall I forget the look on her face, nor the sound of her voice as she said these words. Face to face with the "shadow feared of man", she felt herself utterly helpless. But a Helper there was. I knew the strength of my own faith as I saw her need. I had to speak, though the words were weak and poor in which I tried to give her comfort.
"Do not be afraid, Paulina; you will not be alone. You know the Bible says that neither life nor death can separate us from the love of Christ. Your life is in His hands, the hands that for your sake were nailed to the cross. Is it not a comfort to remember that?"
But Paulina shook her head.
"It means nothing to me," she said drearily. "You know that I have never been particularly religious. I cannot grasp what you say."
"That does not matter, dear, if only you will give yourself into the keeping of the Lord Jesus," I said. "Our safety consists not in our taking hold of Christ, but in His taking hold of us. The grasp of our faith is too often weak and wavering, but neither life nor death can draw us from the embrace of His love. Ask Him to take you into His tender keeping, and bring you safely through all trouble."
"I cannot—I don't know how!" she whispered. "You ask Him, Nan."
I don't know how I did it—I had never prayed audibly in any one's presence—but I knelt beside Paulina then, and asked the Lord to hold her ever in His loving care, and to bring her safely through this illness.
I had not long risen from my knees when Miss Cottrell entered the room. She brought a cup of tea for Paulina, and she said brightly as she set down the tray: