“I am sure she was very sorry to part with me,” she said. “Oh, she had many cares; and sorrows too, I am afraid. And you may think how little she had to comfort her when she said to me that I had been her greatest comfort all the winter. She was very good and kind to me. I loved her dearly. Oh, how I wish I could see her again!”
“You will see her again, I do not doubt,” said Effie, in a low voice. Christie gave her a quick look.
“Yes, I hope so—I believe so.”
After a little while, Effie said:
“If I had known how unhappy you were at first, I think I would have called you home. But I am not sorry that you stayed, now.”
“No; oh, no. I am very glad I came. I think after Annie went away I was worse than I was at first for a little while; but I was very glad afterwards that I did not go with her, very glad.”
“Yes,” said Effie, softly. “You mind you told me something about it in a letter.”
So, shyly enough at first, but growing earnest as she went on, Christie told her about that rainy Sabbath morning when she went to the kirk, where Jesus, through the voice of a stranger, had spoken peace to her soul.
“I couldna see him with my blind eyes from where I sat. I shouldna ken him if I were to see him now. But what a difference he made to me! Yes, I know; it wasna he, it was God’s Holy Spirit; and yet I would like to see him. I wonder will I ken him when we meet in heaven?”
Effie could not find her voice for a moment, and soon Christie went on: