My
difficulty is just this--he IS God, and what am I?"
"One of his little children, my dear. Yes, he is infinite, but
not far away. In the worst of my weakness and folly he listened
patiently, and helped me out of my trouble. How are you going to
get over this fact? He has listened to and helped multitudes of
others in every kind of trouble and wrong. How are you going to
get over these facts?"
Ida slowly wiped her eyes. Her face grew very pale, and she looked
at Mr. Eltinge steadily and earnestly, as if to gather from his
expression and manner, as well as words, the precise effect of her
confession.
"Mr. Eltinge," she said, "at this time yesterday I did not expect
to be alive to-day. I expected to be dead, and by my own hand.
Will God forgive such wickedness?"
"Dead!" exclaimed the old gentleman, starting up.
"Yes," said Ida, growing still paler and trembling with apprehension,
but still looking fixedly at Mr. Eltinge as if she would learn
from his face whether she could hope or must despair because of
her intended crime.
"And what changed your awful purpose, my child?" he said, very
gravely.
"Your words at the prayer-meeting last night.
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