“No, no,” said Leslie, with a catch in her voice, and a suppressed sob. “I am a miserable girl; but I—it does not matter. Annie, I will do what you wish.”
“Then you are an angel after all. I thought you one once, and so did Rupert; but you yourself choked us off. Well, come with me now. You are an angel after all.”
The words were scarcely out of Annie’s lips, her hand, hot and trembling with excitement, had scarcely touched Leslie’s sleeve, before the door was thrown open and Belle Acheson was announced.
Belle came in with a queer, eager look on her face, a kind of hungry, half-starved look. She went straight up to Leslie.
“I did not ask the man at the door,” she said. “I didn’t wish to; I felt I would rather get the news, good or bad, from you. Do you know what a queer thing happened? I was so impressed by what you told me yesterday that I, actually I, Belle Acheson, began to pray in real earnest. All night long I kept asking God to spare Eileen; and now the question is, has He done so? Leslie, how is Eileen? Is she better?”
“She is, Belle; oh, she is,” cried Leslie. “It is too wonderful; but it is true. God has heard all our prayers. It is only a moment back that dear Marjorie ran into the room and told me that Eileen was better.”
“Thank you,” replied Belle; “you need not say any more.” She turned her back on Leslie, and walked to the window. She stood there, behind the shelter of the curtains, and looked out. No one knew what she saw or what she felt. After a time she looked round.
“Then it is all right,” she said. “There is a God who answers prayers; Eileen will get well again. It is a great thing for a girl to discover the truth of that; it makes a great difference in her life. It is quite too interesting,
and too—too wonderful. It makes everything worth while, somehow. Oh, there! I cannot speak about it.”
She stopped abruptly. Leslie did not reply; but Annie now ran up to Belle.