She
abandoned the attempt to draw anything from Letty, and went into
the next room, the door of which stood wide. There lay Tom, but
so changed that Mary took a moment to be certain it was he. Going
softly to him, she laid her hand on his head. It was burning. He
opened his eyes, but she saw their sense was gone. She went back
to Letty, and, sitting down beside her, put her arm about her,
and said:
"Why didn't you send for me, Letty? I would have come to you at
once. I will come now, to-night, and help you to nurse him. Where
is the baby?"
Letty gave a shriek, and, starting from her chair, walked wildly
about the room, wringing her hands. Mary went after her, and
taking her in her arms, said:
"Letty, dear, has God taken your baby?"
Letty gave her a lack-luster look.
"Then," said Mary, "he is not far away, for we are all in God's
arms."
But what is the use of the most sovereign of medicines while they
stand on the sick man's table? What is the mightiest of truths so
long as it is not believed? The spiritually sick still mocks at
the medicine offered; he will not know its cure. Mary saw that,
for any comfort to Letty, God was nowhere. It went to her very
heart. Death and desolation and the enemy were in possession. She
turned to go, that she might return able to begin her contest
with ruin. Letty saw that she was going, and imagined her
offended and abandoning her to her misery.
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