"Oh, Gordon, wait," I cried faintly, sudden resolve gathering in my heart. "Wait, darling, and I'll go," with which I hurried to his side. My reward was in his eyes. I could see them, even in the darkened hall through which we passed into the room of death.
Such a humble room it was, bare and unadorned. The bed stood in the corner, and even my untutored eyes saw at a glance that life's race was nearly run for her who lay upon it. Large, dark eyes looked out at me from the wasted face, wistful in death's mysterious appeal. Poor Jennie! she little knew how great was the ministry yet remaining to her.
For, as in a moment, the repulsion and the fear all left my heart, filling fast with a pity and a longing I could neither understand nor control. It must have been God's prompting, and nothing else. I saw nothing but the dying face. The mother was there; and Martha, her cheeks wet with tears; the younger pair, too, were standing near the bed. But I seemed to behold none of them—not even Gordon.
For I moved instinctively towards the bed, my gaze fixed on the dying girl. Her eyes seemed to call me; the lure of the eternal was within them, and I marvelled, little of spiritual insight though I had, at the deep tranquillity that lay far within. She smiled as she saw me coming closer, and I sat down on the bed beside her.
I could not but notice that her eyes rested on my face in eager wonder; she seemed to love to look, so constant was her gaze. And it was evident—so eternal is the womanly—that she was attracted by what I wore; my lovely gown, the lace upon its bosom, the diamond pendant with its chain about my neck, the rich flowers in my hair—all made their appeal to the dying eyes.
"Oh, it was lovely!" she murmured, after we had spoken a word or two.
"What was, dear?" I answered, for I had no idea.
"What he said—what your husband told me. He made it so easy—and so beautiful. I'm not afraid to die—not now, ma'am."
I marvelled as I beheld the strange serenity that seemed to wrap her like a garment. "Oh," she went on faintly, "it must be lovely to be able to do that; to be able to tell people, when they're dying, about the Saviour—and about heaven. Do you do it too, ma'am?"
I shrank before the pervading eyes, for they seemed to look through and through the soul with the penetrating power that death imparts. "No," I said tremblingly, "no, I don't believe I ever did."