At first the sick girl seemed to revive with the tender care lavished on her; and her heart opened freely to the motherly heart that had thus taken her to itself.
"It is very strange," she would say; "what does it all mean? He whom you worship was one of our people. A good man of your people told me once He loved our race; and forgave even those who were most cruel to Him; and wept over our sorrows, which He foresaw; and forbade any to think He did not love us. Such a lovely portrait the good man drew of your Christ, I thought if I had lived on earth when He did, I must have been a Christian. But His Christians hate our race, and never forgive, and hunt us to death."
"Not all," the Lady said tenderly. "It is He who bade me minister to you."
"If you are like Him, and all Christians were like you," the maiden said, "I might be a Christian even now. But all is so strange!" she went on. "Our people say your Christ is dead, and was buried long ago. But your Book says He rose again, and lives evermore. Yet all His Christians seem to think He has left nothing so precious behind, belonging to Him, as His grave. But if indeed He lay in it only those three days, what was it more than a sick-bed, from which one rises to new health and strength? It is strange. If He lives, has He left you nothing more precious than a grave?"
"Surely He lives!" the Lady said; "and I think He has left us much more precious and dearer to Him than His grave. Poor child," she said, her whole face radiant with the thought, "I think you are dearer, dearer to Him than His Holy Sepulchre. For you may be His living shrine. He said once in a parable, 'In that ye do it to one of the least of these, ye do it unto Me.'"
A heavenly light shone from the dark Oriental eyes of the dying girl.
"Did He say so?" she said. "Then your Christ was indeed different from those who call themselves by His name."
And soon afterwards she resumed,—
"Lady, it may be that I shall see Him soon—see your Christ. It may be I shall find He is our Christ. It may be I shall find He was born my Saviour also, and that He will receive even me among His brethren. It may be He will be pleased with what you have done for me."
And soon afterwards the large wistful eyes grew languid, and were closed in death.