“I ’spect not,” she replied, and again the faint smile filled her eyes.
“Then He loves you,” she said, after a moment. “He came from heaven ’cos of you.”
“It seems like it, my little girl, and yet I cannot bring myself to believe that He can love me.”
“Don’t speak to me, father, for a minute; go away, and look out of the window, and come back when I call you.”
He rose at once, crossed the room, and stood looking out. In a short time the feeble voice called him back.
“Father!” There was a change in the face, the look of pain had vanished, the sweet eyes were as peaceful as ever, and more clearly than ever did that amazing knowledge and comprehension fill them, which never belonged to this earth.
“Kneel down, father,” said Sibyl.
He knelt.
Now she laid her little hand in his, and now she smiled at him, and now, as if she were strong and well again, she stroked his hand with her other hand, and at last she feebly raised the hand and pressed it to her lips.
“I am loving you so much,” she said, “same as Jesus loves you, I think.”