The words ran out impulsively. His breathing came quick and short; his hold was tense. In that moment the child's pure spirit recognized that the image had crumbled in her shrine, but the brave heart of her did not flinch. Very tenderly she veiled the ruin. The element of worship had vanished in that single instant of revelation; but her love remained, and it shone out to him like a beacon as he knelt there in abasement by her side.
"But you're sorry," she whispered. "You would undo the bad things if you could."
"God knows I would!" he said.
"Perhaps He will undo them for you," she murmured softly. "Have you asked Him?"
"There are some things that can't be undone," groaned Piers. "It would be too big a job even for Him."
"Nothing is that," said Jeanie with conviction. "If we are sorry and if we pray, some day He will undo all the bad we've ever done."
"I haven't prayed for six years," said Piers. "Things went wrong with me.
I felt as if I were under a curse. And I gave it up."
"Oh, Piers!" she said, holding him closer. "How miserable you must have been!"
"I've been in hell!" he said with bitter vehemence. "And the gates tight shut! Not that I was ever very great in the spiritual lines," he added more calmly. "But I used to think God took a friendly interest in my affairs till—till I went down into hell and the gates shut on me; and then—" he spoke grimly—"I knew He didn't care a rap."
"But, dear, He does care!" said Jeanie very earnestly.