So Daisy read them, looking with great tenderness in the cripple's
face--
"'I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of
life freely.' That is what it says, Molly."
"Who says?"
"Why Jesus says it. He came and died to buy the life for us--and now he
will give it to us, he says, if we want it."
"What life?" said Molly vaguely.
"Why _that_, Molly; that which you were wishing for. He will forgive us,
and make us good, and set his mark upon us; and then we shall wear those
robes that are made white in his blood, and be with him in heaven. And
that is life."
"You and me?" said Molly.
"O yes! Molly--anybody. It says 'whosoever is athirst.'"
"Where's the words?" said Molly.
Daisy shewed her; and Molly made a deep mark in the paper under them
with her nail; so deep as to signify that she meant to have them for
present study or future reference or both. Then, as Molly seemed to
have said her say, Daisy said no more and went away.
It was still not late in the afternoon; and Daisy drove on, past the
Melbourne gates, and turned the corner into the road which led to Crum
Elbow. The air was as clear as October could have it; and soft, neither
warm nor cold; and the roads were perfect; and here and there a few
yellow and red maple leaves, and in many places a brown stubble field,
told that autumn was come. It was as pleasant a day for drive as could
possibly be; and yet Daisy's face was more intent upon her pony's ears
than upon any other visible thing.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261