The quiet child flung himself upon my neck, and the mother’s face gleamed with pleasure.

“Dear boy!” I said, “I am very glad to see you so much better.”

For this was the first time he had shown such a revival of energy.  He had been quite sweet when he saw me, but, until this evening, listless.

“Yes,” he said, “I am quite well now.”  And he put his hand up to his head.

“Does it ache?”

“Not much now.  The doctor says I had a bad fall.”

“So you had, my child.  But you will soon be well again.”

The mother’s face was turned aside, yet I could see one tear forcing its way from under her closed eyelid.

“Oh, I don’t mind it,” he answered.  “Mammy is so kind to me!  She lets me sit on her bed as long as I like.”

“That is nice.  But just run to auntie in the next room.  I think your mammy would like to talk to me for a little while.”

The child hurried off the bed, and ran with overflowing obedience.

“I can even think of him now,” said the mother, “without going into a passion.  I hope God will forgive him. I do.  I think He will forgive me.”

“Did you ever hear,” I asked, “of Jesus refusing anybody that wanted kindness from Him?  He wouldn’t always do exactly what they asked Him, because that would sometimes be of no use, and sometimes would even be wrong; but He never pushed them away from Him, never repulsed their approach to Him.  For the sake of His disciples, He made the Syrophenician woman suffer a little while, but only to give her such praise afterwards and such a granting of her prayer as is just wonderful.”

She said nothing for a little while; then murmured,

“Shall I have to be ashamed to all eternity?  I do not want not to be ashamed; but shall I never be able to be like other people—­in heaven I mean?”

“If He is satisfied with you, you need not think anything more about yourself.  If He lets you once kiss His feet, you won’t care to think about other people’s opinion of you even in heaven.  But things will go very differently there from here.  For everybody there will be more or less ashamed of himself, and will think worse of himself than he does of any one else.  If trouble about your past life were to show itself on your face there, they would all run to comfort you, trying to make the best of it, and telling you that you must think about yourself as He thinks about you; for what He thinks is the rule, because it is the infallible right way.  But perhaps rather, they would tell you to leave that to Him who has taken away our sins, and not trouble yourself any more about it.  But to tell the truth, I don’t think such thoughts will come to you at all when once you have seen the face of Jesus Christ.  You will be so filled with His glory and goodness and grace, that you will just live in Him and not in yourself at all.”

“Will He let us tell Him anything we please?”