Elsli told her of her accidental acquaintance with the fisherman’s family, of their extreme poverty, of the illness of the mother, and of her own efforts to help them.

“Do you think I have done very wrong?” she asked, timidly, looking up at Clarissa with wistful eyes.

Clarissa was very much moved.

“My darling,” she said, “do not worry about it.  You did not mean to do anything wrong, and all that you did was in kindness.  You wanted to tell me about it long ago, I remember; and it was no fault of yours that I did not hear it.  I will explain it all to Mrs. Stanhope, and she will understand it and will not be displeased.”

“And do you think she will let me go again and help them?”

“You are too ill to think about going now; but I promise to see to them myself, so do not fret about it, dear.  I had no idea that the family were so poor; the man never has complained when he has been here with the fish.  I will go and inquire what the sick woman needs.  Will that satisfy you, dear?”

“Yes,” said Elsli, but somewhat doubtfully.  “You see, there is so much to be done that no one would know about, and she would never tell about it.  I couldn’t do much darning and mending, and the clothes are so worn out that the children can scarcely keep them on; and their mother is too ill to cook, and when the father comes home he is too tired, and he has hard work even to keep a house over their heads.  If I don’t help them, they will never get through; they will suffer in silence.  They are just like us at home.”

Elsli’s sobs prevented her from saying any more.  The remembrance of her early sufferings and the thought of her parents’ trials came over her like a flood, and she sobbed as if her heart would break.  Clarissa lifted her head and raised the pillows behind it, so that she could look out into the clear, star-lit night.

Elsli gradually grew more tranquil, and by and by she looked up into Clarissa’s face and smiled.

“Do you think I shall go to Nora?” she asked.  “The old grandfather said that only good people go to heaven.”

“My child” said Clarissa, “our Lord and Saviour shows us the way.  He has opened the door for those who have erred, and shown us that our Heavenly Father is always ready to forgive and receive those who repent and turn to him.  Don’t you remember the parable of the Prodigal Son and the words of Jesus to the men who were crucified with him?  They were not good, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” said the child in a tone of relief; and she repeated softly to herself the hymn which she had said to the old man.  The last couplet was scarcely audible.

    “Oh, ope the gates of heaven now,
      And bid me enter in!”

The next morning Clarissa went to the other children with the sad news that Elsli was very, very ill.  They could not at first believe it.  She had never complained, and had been only yesterday in the garden with them, joining in their play; quiet to be sure, but always sympathetic and trying to please them all.  It was a sad day for them.  They could not occupy themselves as usual, but sat about in the house and garden, weeping in silence, or talking in subdued tones about the sick girl whom they all loved so dearly.