"I wish he would come too. Our meetings are so good now. Daniel has perfessed religion."
She spoke in such subdued fashion I looked at her in surprise, thinking she might soon follow his example. I think she was waiting for me to say something; but I felt myself so ignorant on this great subject, I knew not what to say.
"I've wished often of late that I'd never been born. Where I'm to go to once the breath leaves my body, is an awful thought." She burst into a fit of bitter weeping that frightened me.
"Christ is very merciful," I faltered, not knowing what to say.
"I've read that and heard it many a time; but we've been such a heathenish lot, I'm afraid He's left us to ourselves."
"If He has remembered Daniel, that should encourage you."
"He's not lived without thinking of Him as many years as I have."
She sat with bowed head, quietly weeping, the picture of despair. I touched the hard, wrinkled hand that had so often generously ministered to the wants of others.
"Have you asked Christ to forgive you?"
"Asked Him?" she sobbed, "I've been crying day and night for weeks; but I'm only getting further away all the time."