She did not want to frighten the parting soul but she was sorrowful over the life going out into eternal darkness.
Rachel Dane shuddered, and cried:
“I always meant to get ready when the time came but it caught me unprepared. I’m only fifty odd years old, and I hoped to live to ninety. Oh, tell me what to do! help me, pray for me!”
“I’ve prayed for you, Rachel Dane, ever since you made your home under my roof, and I’m glad your heart is softened at last. Try to love God and believe in His goodness. Say after me: ‘Lord, forgive a dying sinner, and save me, for Christ’s sake! Amen.’”
The dying creature clutched at the bed-clothes, and mumbled the words in pitiful earnest, after which Mrs. Flint knelt by the bed, and herself offered up a fervent prayer.
“Oh, I’ve been bad and wicked all my life, hating God because I was poor! I don’t know how to get His favor now,” sighed the dying sinner; and Mrs. Flint answered, soothingly:
“If you have done anything wicked that you can undo, now is the time to repent and get God’s forgiveness.”
She saw a look of alarm come into the fading eyes, and Rachel plucked wildly at the counterpane, muttering:
“I did a cruel wrong twenty years ago. I stole the baby daughter of a heart-broken young widow.”
“Good heavens! how dreadful! Tell me all about it quickly, and perhaps something may yet be done to right the wrong,” cried Mrs. Flint, in dismay.