“That is what I want to talk about,—her work, or her plans for work. What made her so different from other people, Mr. Ried. Wasn't she different?”
The young man regarded the question thoughtfully before answering.
“Not from all the people,” he said at last; “but certainly very different from some. I used to think that all Christians were like her, of course; then, when I saw my mistake, I went to the other extreme, and thought there were none like her on earth. I have discovered that the medium position is the correct one.”
“But what I want to know is, what made her different? It wasn't her age. Mrs. Roberts thinks she was young?”
“She was hardly nineteen when she died. Oh, no, it wasn't age; she told me that she used to be very different. She was a Christian from childhood, but she said that she was ashamed to claim the name. There was nothing Christlike about her; still she was a member of the Church. As I remember her, and as I look at other people, my judgment is that, in her early Christian life, she was much like most of the Christians with whom you and I are familiar.”
“And what made her different? Was it—that is—do you think it was because she was to die so soon that she had a special experience?”
“Not at all,” he said, promptly; “it was before she realized anything about her condition that the great change took place in her. My brother-in-law says that she supposed herself to be in perfect health at the time when she was most marked in her Christian life.”
“Ah! but you don't understand; I mean more than that. It is difficult to tell what I mean; I mean—but you know, of course, God knew that she was soon to go to heaven. I thought, perhaps, he gave her a special experience on that account.”
“No; oh, no,” he said, speaking with great earnestness. “Ester was particularly anxious that no one should suppose her experience exceptional. Little fellow though I was, it seemed to be her desire that I should fully understand this. Don't let anybody make you think that because you are a little boy you must be a sort of half-way Christian,' she used to say, and her eyes would glow with feeling. 'I tried that way for years,' she said, 'and I want you to understand that it is not only sinful, but there is not a particle of happiness to be gotten out of it—not a particle; and I would give almost nothing for what such a Christian can accomplish. The harm one does, more than overbalances all effort for Christ.' I think, perhaps, she felt more deeply on that than on almost any subject; and it was because she thought she had wasted so many years.”
“Then do you think that there is, or rather that there should be, no difference in Christians? Have all the same work to do?”