Part 4 (1/2)

”Oh, I remember,” interrupted Frida. ”I read to him once about Jesus ever living 'to make intercession for us.' Yes, Wilhelm, I'll come with you. I know Miss Drechsler will say I should go, for she often tells me I really belong to the kind people in the Forest.” And so saying, she ran off to tell her story to her friend.

Miss Drechsler at once a.s.sented to her return to the Forest to give what help she could to the people there, adding that she herself would come up soon to visit them, and bring them any comforts necessary for them such as could not be easily got by them. Ere they parted she and Frida knelt together in prayer, and Miss Drechsler asked that G.o.d would use the child as His messenger to the poor, sorrowing, suffering ones in the Forest; after which she took Frida's Bible and put marks in at the different pa.s.sages which she thought would be suitable to the different cases of the people that Wilhelm had spoken of.

It was late in the afternoon ere Wilhelm and Frida reached the hut of Johann Schmidt, where he left the child for a while, whilst he went on to the Volkmans to tell them of Frida's return, and that she hoped to see them the next day. Gretchen met the girl with a cry of delight.

”_Ach!_ there she comes, our own little Fraulein. What a pleasure it is to see thee again, our woodland pet! And see, here is my Johann laid up in bed, nearly killed by the falling of a tree.”

The sick man raised himself as he heard the child's voice saying as she entered, in reply to Gretchen's words, ”Oh, I am sorry, so sorry! Why did you not tell me sooner?” And in another moment she was sitting beside Johann, speaking kind, comforting words to him. He stroked her hair fondly, and answered her questions as well as he could; but there was a far-away look in his eyes as if his thoughts were in some region distant from the one he was living in now. After a few minutes he asked eagerly,--

”Have you the little brown book with you now?”

”Yes, I have,” was the reply. ”Shall I read to you now, Johann? for Wilhelm is to come for me soon.”

”Yes, read, read,” he said; ”for I am weary, so weary.”

Frida turned quickly to the eleventh chapter of Matthew, and read distinctly in the German, which he could understand, and which she could now speak also, the words, ”Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

He stopped her there. ”Read that again,” he said. She complied, and then he turned to her, saying, ”And Jesus, the Son of G.o.d, said that? Will He give it to me, thinkest thou?”

”Yes,” she said, ”He will; for He has promised to do it, and He never breaks His word.”

”Well, if that be so, kneel down, pretty one, and ask Him to give it me, for I need it sorely.”

Frida knelt, and in a few simple words besought the Saviour to give His rest and peace to the suffering man.

”Thanks, little Frida,” he said as she rose. ”I believe that prayer will be answered.” And shutting his eyes he fell quietly asleep, and Frida slipped out of the room and joined Wilhelm in the Forest.

”Is little Anna so very ill?” she queried as they walked.

”I fear she is,” was the answer the father gave, with tears in his eyes.

”The mother thinks so also; though the child, bless her, is so good and patient we hardly know whether she suffers or not. She just lies still mostly on her bed now, and sings to herself little bits of hymns, or speaks about the land far away, which she says you told her about, and where she says she is going to see Jesus. Then her mother begins to cry; but she also speaks about that bright land. 'Deed it puzzles me to know where they have learned so much about it, unless it be from your little brown book. And the child has often asked where Frida is. 'I want to hear her sing again,' she says.”

”O Wilhelm, why did you not come for me when she said that?”

”Well, you see, I had promised the pastor that I would let you visit Miss Drechsler as often as possible, and then you were getting on so nicely with your violin that we felt as if we had no right to call you back to us. But see, here we are, and there is Hans looking out for us.”

But Hans, instead of rus.h.i.+ng to meet them as he usually did, ran back hastily to his mother, calling out, ”Here they come, here they come!”

”Oh, I am glad!” she said.--”Anna, dear Anna, you will hear Frida's voice again.”

The mother looked round with a smile, but moved not, for the dying child lay in her arms. A moment longer, and Frida was beside her, her arms round the blind child.

”Annchen, dear Annchen, speak to me,” she entreated--”just one word, to say you know me. It is Frida come home, and she will not leave you again, but will tell you stories out of the little brown book.”

A look of intelligence crossed the face of the blind child, and she said,--

”Dear Frida, tell Annchen 'bout Jesus, and sing.”