"Do you think it will not hurt her, for me to see her?" I asked.
"Oh, no, she said that she would like to see you."
During our short walk few words were said. As we reached the cottage a
young man came out to meet us, with a flaxen-haired, blue-eyed child
in his arms, and another clinging to his hand. It was Vesta's husband,
and these were her children. Following them into the cottage, I found
myself at once in the presence of the dying woman. The sight of a
strange face did not disturb her. With a look that seemed to
comprehend the Christian bond of union between us she held out her
hand.
"I have come with Erwald," I said, "to see his sister. I am sorry to
find you so very ill."
"Almost home," she gasped.
"You do not feel that you are alone; there is One to walk with you?"
"Jesus, my Redeemer, my Comforter."
Erwald was kneeling by the bed, his eyes were full of tears, and his
hand trembled as he clasped the pale thin fingers.
"You will get well, Vesta, you will come to the old home once again,
mother expects you, and father." The words were gone. Sobs echoed
through the cottage.
"Tell mother, not an hour but I have thought of her. Tell her that I
am glad she loves Jesus; and father, ask him for my sake to read the
little Bible that I sent him. I would so like to see them, Erwald;
but it cannot be. For this, as well as for my husband and children, I
would live; but I go to Jesus. Live so as to meet me there.
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