said Dolly, "is all that true?"
"Certainly."
"When did He do that?"
"It is almost nineteen hundred years ago. And since then, if any one trusts His word and is willing to be His servant, Jesus loves him, and keeps him, and saves him, and makes him blessed for ever."
"But why did He do that? what made Him?"
"His great love for us."
"Us?" Dolly repeated.
"Yes. You and me, and everybody. He just came to save that which was lost."
"I don't see how He can love me," said Dolly slowly. "Why, I am a stranger to Him, Aunt Harry."
"Ah, you are no stranger! Oh yes, Dolly, He loves you dearly; and He knows all about you."
Dolly considered the matter a little, and also considered her aunt, whose lips were quivering and whose eyes were dropping tears. With a very serious face Dolly considered the matter: and came to a conclusion with promptitude unusual in this one subject of all the world. She half rose up in her bed.
"Then I love Him," she said. "I will love Him, too, Aunt Harry."
"Will you, my darling?"
"But I do not know how to be His servant."
"Jesus will teach you Himself, if you ask Him."
"How will He teach me?"
"He will make you understand His word, and let you know what pleases Him. He says, 'If ye love me, keep My commandments.'"
"His commandments are in the Bible, aren't they?"
"Certainly. You say you have not got a Bible?"
"No."
"Then we will see about that to-morrow, the first thing we do. You shall have a Bible, and that will tell you about His commandments."
"Aunt Harry, I would like Him to know to-night that I love Him."
"Then tell Him so, dear."
"Can I?"
"To be sure you can. Why not?"
"I do not know how."
"Tell Him, Dolly, just as if the Lord Jesus were here present and you could see Him. He is here, only you do not see Him; that is all the difference Tell Him, Dolly, just as you would tell me; only remember that you are speaking to the King. He would like to hear you say that."
"I ought to kneel down when I speak to Him, oughtn't I? People do in church."
"It is proper, when we can, to take a position of respect when we speak to the King; don't you think so?"
Dolly shuffled herself up upon her knees in the bed, not regarding much that Mrs. Eberstein threw a shawl round her shoulders; and waited a minute or two, looking intensely serious and considering. Then laying her hands involuntarily together, but with her eyes open, she spoke.
"O Lord Jesus, – Aunt Harry says you are here though I cannot see you. If you are here, you can see, and you know that I love you; and I will be your servant. I never knew about you before, or I would have done it before. Now I do. Please to teach me, for I do not know anything, that I may do everything that pleases you. I will not do anything that don't please you. Amen."
Dolly waited a moment, then turned and put her arms round her aunt's neck and kissed her. "Thank you!" – she said earnestly; and then lay down and arranged herself to sleep.
Mrs. Eberstein went downstairs and astonished her husband by a burst of hysterical weeping. He made anxious enquiries; and at last received an account of the last half-hour.
"But, oh, Edward, what do you think?" she concluded. "Did you ever hear anything like that in your life? Do you think it can be genuine?"
"Genuine what?" demanded her husband.
"Why, I mean, can it be true religious conversion? This child knows next to nothing; just that Jesus died out of love to her, to save her, – nothing more."
"And she has given her love back. Very logical and reasonable; and ought not to be so uncommon."
"But it is uncommon, Edward. At least, people generally make a longer business of it."
"In which they do not show their wisdom."
"No; but they do it. Edward, can it be that this child is so suddenly a Christian? Will it stand?"
"Only time can show that. But Harry, all the cases, – almost all the cases reported in the New Testament are cases of sudden yielding. Just look at it. John and Andrew took but a couple of hours or so to make up their minds. Nathanael did not apparently take more than two minutes after he saw Christ. Lydia became a Christian at her first hearing the good news; the eunuch made up his mind as quick. Why should not little Dolly? The trouble is caused only by people's obstinate resistance."
"Then you think it may be true work?"
"Of course I think so. This child is not an ordinary child, there is that to be said."
"No," said Mrs. Eberstein thoughtfully. "Is she not peculiar? She is such a child; and yet there is such a wise, deep look in her brown eyes. What pretty eyes they are! There is the oddest mixture of old and young in her I ever saw. She is going to be lovely, Edward!"
"I think she is lovely now."
"Oh yes! but I mean, when she grows up. She will be very lovely, with those spiritual eyes and that loose curly brown hair; if only she can be kept as she is now."
"My dear, she cannot be that!"
"Oh, you know what I mean, Edward. If she can be kept unspoiled; untainted; unsophisticated; with that sort of mixture of wisdom and simplicity which she has now. I wish we need not send her to school."
"We have no choice about that. And the Lord can keep His own. Let us ask Him."
They knelt and did so; with some warm tears on Mrs. Eberstein's part, and great and warm earnestness in them both.
CHAPTER II
CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER
Mrs. Eberstein watched during the next few days, to see, if she could, whether the sudden resolve taking on Dolly's part that first evening "meant anything," as she expressed it, or not. She remained in doubt. Dolly was thoughtful certainly, and sweet certainly; "but that don't tell," Mrs. Eberstein remarked; "it is her characteristic." It was equally certain that she had attached herself with a trustful, clinging affection to the new friends whose house and hearts had received her. Dolly's confidence was given to them fully and heartily from that very first day; and they saw that it was.
Nearly a week passed before the school-term began. Meanwhile Dolly was taken about, in walks and drives, to see all that her friends thought would interest her. Everything interested her, they found; and upon every subject presented to her, her little head went to work; the result of which was the putting of a question now and then, which afforded her guardians, perhaps, as much entertainment as the ground of the question had given Dolly. These questions, however, were called forth most of all by the subject which had seized hold of Dolly's mind with such force that first evening. Mrs. Eberstein had not forgotten her promise about the Bible. One of the first expeditions undertaken the next day had been in search of one; successful, in the judgment of both Dolly and her aunt; and since then the book was very often to be seen in Dolly's hands.
"What are you reading there, Dolly?" Mr. Eberstein asked, corning in one evening just before dinner. Dolly was on a low seat at the corner of the fireplace, reading by the shine of a fire of Liverpool coal, which threw warm lights all over the little figure. She looked up and said it was her Bible she was studying.
"You will put out your eyes."
"Oh no, Uncle Edward; the print is so good, and the fire makes such a nice blaze, I can see perfectly."
"And pray, what are you looking for, or what are you finding, in that book, little one?"
"I am looking for a great deal, – and I am finding a little," was Dolly's reply.
"Different with me," said Mr. Eberstein