"You are a Christian now, my dear," she said.
"But I want the world to know it," I affirmed.
"That is right and brave," she answered, "but you must count the cost first."
Then she sat down beside me and gently told me what I would have to bear if I publicly took the name of Christ. She said that there were not more than twenty-five Parsi Christians in the whole world. She said that probably I would be turned out of my home, that my relatives would count me as dead, that all my wealth would be taken from me and that I would not have one anna for myself or my child.
"Think of your child! Think of yourself! I cannot urge you to do it. You must decide for yourself."
I answered quickly, "I have thought of myself. I have thought of my child. She must be a Christian and be brought up as such. Miss Miller, I have decided for myself. Jesus will take care of us. I know it in my heart for He tells me so."
So I made my decision and she said no more, but I knew she was pleased by the smile that she gave me. I would not wait for one instant lest influences might be brought to bear which I could not resist and I might be prevented from declaring my desire and fulfilling it. I took Miss Miller's hand and we went at once to my mother's room. She was not dangerously ill. When she heard my determination to become a Christian, she sent for my father from his study. Together they listened as I told all again.
"Is that decision final, my daughter?" asked my father at last, a man always of few words.