“Oh! I can’t bear it—little Nan, little Nan! Cecil, I am very, very unhappy.”
“I know it, darling,” said Cecil, and she put her arms round the excited girl. “Oh, Hester! don’t turn away from me; do let us be unhappy together.”
“But you did not care for Nan.”
“I did—we all loved the pretty darling.”
“Suppose I never see her again?” said Hester half wildly. “Oh, Cecil! and mother left her to me! mother gave her to me to take care of, and to bring to her some day in heaven. Oh, little Nan, my pretty, my love, my sweet! I think I could better bear her being dead than this.”
“You could, Hester,” said Cecil, “if she was never to be found; but I don’t think God will give you such a terrible punishment. I think little Nan will be restored to you. Let us ask God to do it, Hetty—let us kneel down now, we two little girls, and pray to Him with all our might.”
“I can’t pray; don’t ask me,” said Hester, turning her face away.
“Then I will.”
“But not here, Cecil. Cecil, I am not good—I am not good enough to pray.”
“We don’t want to be good to pray,” said Cecil. “We want perhaps to be unhappy—perhaps sorry; but if God waited just for goodness, I don’t think He would get many prayers.”