Mother Agnes was going away, deeply disappointed, when the nurse told her the story of little Frances wishing to lose her leg for Kate's sake. And also, how the children had grown to love each other; and what a dear child Frances was, and how she talked to Kate of everything that is good.
And then Mother Agnes was comforted, for she saw that all she had to do was to stand aside, and let a little child do the work. And as she walked along the Thames Embankment in the glory of the setting sun, it came into her mind how Christ had taken all that was sweetest on earth, the love and trust of little children, the love of the father for the child, of the shepherd for the sheep, and made earthly love the stepping-stone to raise us into the thought of the possibility of that greater Love outside ourselves.
St. Thomas' Hospital.
The next time she came to the hospital, Kate had much to ask her about the Orphanage. They talked pleasantly for a short time; and then, after a pause Kate said: "Mother Agnes, something is frightening me."
"What is it, Kate?"
Another pause—so long that it seemed as if Kate did not mean to speak again—and then she said: "The love of God frightens me."
"But, Kate, that was meant to be the greatest joy and comfort of our lives."
"It is always there," said Kate, earnestly, "burning into me so that I cannot forget it. It is much worse to bear than the pain. Indeed, I cannot bear it, it is almost intolerable. Night and day, I can never, never forget it. And oh, Mother Agnes, if I had killed my own little Frances, it would not have given me the trouble it does to think of the things I have done against Jesus Christ."