"What shall I do for you?" said her father. "You go round like a shadow, and you don't eat much more. What shall I do that you would like?"
This time there was nobody in the room. Nettie lifted her head from his shoulder and met his eyes.
"What?" said Mr. Mathieson.--"I don't know anything about that, Nettie. I aint fit."
"Jesus will take you anyhow, father, if you will come."
"We'll talk about that some other time," said Mr. Mathieson,--"when you get well."
"Perhaps I shan't get well," said Nettie, her quiet, grave face not changing in the least; "then I shall go to the golden city; and father, I shall be looking for you till you come."
Mr. Mathieson did not know how to answer her; he only groaned.
"Father, will you come?" Nettie repeated, a little faint streak of colour in her cheeks showing the earnestness of the feeling at work. But her words had a mingled accent of tenderness and hope which was irresistible.
"Yes, Nettie--if you will show me how," her father answered, in a lowered voice. And Nettie's eye gave one bright flash of joy. It was as if all her strength had gone out at that flash, and she was obliged to lean back on her father's shoulder and wait; joy seemed to have taken away her breath. He waited too, without knowing why she did.
"Father, the only thing to do is to come to Jesus."
"What does that mean, Nettie? You know I don't know."
"It means, father, that Jesus is holding out his hand with a promise to you. Now if you will take the promise,--that is all."
Nettie waited, gathered breath, for the talk made her heart beat; and then said, "'This is the promise that he hath promised us, even eternal life.'"
"How can a sinful man take such a promise?" said Mr. Mathieson, with suppressed feeling. "That is for people like you, Nettie, not me."
"Oh, Jesus has bought it!" cried Nettie; "it's free. It's without price. You may have it if you'll believe in him and love him, father. I can't talk."
She had talked too much, or the excitement had been too strong for her. Her words were broken off by coughing, and she remarked that her lip must have bled again. Her father laid her on the bed, and from that time for a number of days she was kept as quiet as possible; for her strength had failed anew and yet more than at first.