'Him—Jesus Christ. I've heard tell, I think, that he was to come again some day.'
'Why do you ask?'
'Because—' she said, with a fresh burst of tears, which rendered the words that followed unintelligible. But she recovered herself in a few moments, and, as if finishing her sentence, put her hand up to her poor, thin, colourless hair, and said,
'My hair ain't long enough to wipe his feet.'
'Do you know what he would say to you, my girl?' Falconer asked.
'No. What would he say to me? He would speak to me, would he?'
'He would say: Thy sins are forgiven thee.'
'Would he, though? Would he?' she cried, starting up. 'Take me to him—take me to him. Oh! I forgot. He's dead. But he will come again, won't he? He was crucified four times, you know, and he must ha' come four times for that. Would they crucify him again, sir?'
'No, they wouldn't crucify him now—in England at least. They would only laugh at him, shake their heads at what he told them, as much as to say it wasn't true, and sneer and mock at him in some of the newspapers.'
'Oh dear! I've been very wicked.'