"Shall I say another?" asked Bessie.
"I should like to hear that one again," said the colonel, "if you do not mind saying it so often."
"Oh, no; I like to say it. I guess you like it as much as I do, you want to hear it so many times. I was glad that I learned it before, but I am gladder now when you like it so;" and the third time she repeated the hymn.
"The Shepherd," she said when she was through; "that means our Saviour,—does it not?—and the big people are the sheep, and the children the lambs. Maggie and I are his lambs, and you are his sheep; and you are his soldier too. You are a little bit my soldier, but you are a great deal his soldier; are you not?"
The colonel did not answer. He was leaning his head on his hand, and his face was turned a little from her.
"Say, are you not?" repeated Bessie,—"are you not his soldier?"
"I'm afraid not, Bessie," he said, turning his face towards her, and speaking very slowly. "If I were his soldier, I should fight for him; but I have been fighting against him all my life."
"Why?" said the little girl, a good deal startled, but not quite understanding him; "don't you love him?"
"No, Bessie."
It was pitiful to see the look of distress and wonder which came over the child's face. "Don't you love him?" she said again,—"don't you love our Saviour? Oh, you don't mean that,—you only want to tease me. But you wouldn't make believe about such a thing as that. Don't you really love him? How can you help it?"