He drew a deep breath of relief and turned away quickly from the sight
of her poor drowned eyes, rejoicing that they had not been the eyes of
Bonnie. It was terrible to think of Bonnie lying so, all drenched and
her spirit put out. He was glad he might still think of her alive, and
go on searching for her. But a dart of pain went through his heart as he
looked again at this little wreck of womanhood, going out of a life that
had dealt hardly with her; where she had reached for brightness and
pleasure, and had found ashes and bitterness instead. Going into a
beyond of darkness, hoping, perhaps, for no kindlier hands to greet her
than those that had been withheld from her in this world! What would the
resurrection mean to a poor little soul like that? What could it mean?
Ah! Perhaps it had not all been her fault! Perhaps there were others who
had helped push her down, smug in self-righteousness, to whom the
resurrection would be more of a horror than to the pretty, ignorant
child whose untaught feet had strayed into forbidden paths! Who knew? He
was glad to look up and feel the Presence there! Who knew what might
have passed between the soul and God? It was safe to leave that little
sinful soul with Him who had died to save. It was good to go out from
there knowing that the pretty, sinful girl, the hardened, grizzled sot,
the poor old toothless crone, the little hunchback newsboy who lay in
the same row, were guarded alike and beloved by the same Presence that
would go with him.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153