God, and heaven, and the blessed hope of a future life were
things practically unknown to her.
What fragmentary ideas she had gleaned in her wanderings about the
great city with her little brother were vague and unformed. But even
Cecile, thinking now of her father's deathbed, remembered words which
she had little thought of at the time.
Just before he breathed his last, he had raised two feeble hands,
and placed one on her head, and one on Maurice's, and said in a
faltering, failing voice:
"If the blessed and adorable Jesus be God, may He guide you, my
children."
These were his last words, and Cecile, lying on her little bed
to-night, remembered them vividly.
Who was this Jesus who was so loving, and who was so willing to
guide people? She must learn more about Him, for if _He_ only
promised to go with her into France, then her heart might be light,
her fears as to the success of her great mission might be laid to rest.
Cecile resolved to find out all she could about Jesus from old Mrs.
Bell.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Aunt Lydia called the
little girl aside, and gave her as usual a basket of broken provisions.
"There is a good piece of apple-tart in the basket this morning,
Cecile, and a bottle of fresh milk. Don't any of you three come
worriting me again before nightfall; there, run away quickly, child,
for I'm dreadful busy and put out to-day."
For a brief moment Cecile looked eagerly and pityingly into the hard
face.
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