You would always think how you had robbed a little
girl that trusted you, and who had a great, great dreadful care on
her mind, and you would remember how Jesus the Guide had sent you to
that little girl to help her, and your heart would break. You could
not do it, Joe Barnes."
Here Cecile returned her purse to its hiding place, and then sat
quiet, with her hands folded before her.
Nothing could exceed the dignity and calm of the little creature.
The homeless and starved French boy, looking at her, felt a sudden
lump rising in his throat;--a naturally warm and chivalrous nature
made him almost inclined to worship the pretty child. For a moment
the great lump in his throat prevented him speaking, then, falling on
his knees, he took Cecile's little hand in his.
"Cecile D'Albert," he said passionately, "I'd rayther be cut in
little bits nor touch that purse o' gold. You're quite, quite right,
little Missie, it 'ud break my heart."
"Of course," said Cecile. "And now, Joe, shall we walk on, for 'tis
most bitter cold under this sand hill; and see! poor Maurice is
nearly asleep."
That same evening, when, rather earlier than usual, the children and
dog had taken refuge in a very tiny little wayside house, where a
woman was giving them room to rest in almost for nothing, Joe, coming
close to Cecile, said:
"Wot wor that as you said that Jesus the Guide sent me to you,
Missie. I don't know nothink about Jesus the Guide."
"Oh, Joe! what an unhappy boy you must be! I was _so_ unhappy
until I learned about Him, and I was a long, long time learning.
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