In her earnestness she had knelt down beside the old man; and now, as her voice failed, she laid her face down on his knee. His trembling right hand was laid on her head.
“So—she has gone! She has solved the mystery.”
“Did you not know, Cousin Cyprien? Did not Mr Jerome tell you? He feared to grieve you.”
“Doubtless—it was for that or for some other good reason. I am glad I did not die.”
“But mama was not afraid, after she knew how Jesus loved us and came to die for us.”
“Tell me of your mother, and the end.”
“She was not afraid,” repeated Frederica. “Miss Agnace was afraid for her, and Mr Jerome and Sister Magdalen came often, and told her many things she ought to do. But she was never afraid, after the old man told us how ‘the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.’ It is in the Bible, you know, and God taught her, I think God and Selina. And it is for us all—the blood of Jesus—for those who think as Miss Agnace does, and you, and all of us. Selina will tell you. May I bring Selina, Mr St. Cyr?”
“Tell me about your mother,” said he.
Frederica told him about how afraid her mother had been, and how she longed to know the way to heaven. And then she told how she had brought the old man in from the storm, never thinking what wonderful things he was to tell them, and how after that her mother was at rest. She told him how she had grown weaker, so slowly that they could see no change in her from day to day, and how calm and peaceful she was through all the time.
“Not even the thought of leaving us alone, when we feared papa was dying, made her unhappy; for she said, ‘God will take care of my children, against all who would do them harm.’ And so He will,” added Frederica earnestly; and as she raised her eyes, they fell on the face of Mr Jerome, standing in the shadow of the door. She rose hastily.