"O--to be a Christian," said Fleda.
"But I have seen Christians," said Mr. Carleton, "who were no more ready to die than other people."
"Then they were make-believe Christians," said Fleda decidedly.
"What makes you think so?" said her friend, carefully guarding his countenance from anything like a smile.
"Because," said Fleda, "grandpa was ready, and my father was ready, and my mother too; and I know it was because they were Christians."
"Perhaps your kind of Christians are different from my kind," said Mr. Carleton, carrying on the conversation half in spite of himself. "What do you mean by a Christian, Elfie?"
"Why, what the Bible means," said Fleda, looking at him with innocent earnestness.
Mr. Carleton was ashamed to tell her he did not know what that was, or he was unwilling to say what he felt would trouble the happy confidence she had in him. He was silent; but as they rode on, a bitter wish crossed his mind that he could have the simple purity of the little child in his arms; and he thought he would give his broad acres supposing it possible that religion could be true,--in exchange for that free happy spirit that looks up to all its possessions in heaven.
Chapter XI.
Starres are poore books and oftentimes do misse;
This book of starres lights to eternall blisse.