As they came back to mine, he cried: "O God, no! I'd killed
her first. I'm glad she died."
Reaching out and taking the poor hand, I said, "The dear Lord didn't want
her to be like them. He loved her even better than you did, so he took her
away. He is keeping her for you. Don't you want to see her again?"
"O, I'd be willing to be burned alive a thousand times over if I could just
see my little girl once more, my little Mamie!"
O friends, you know what a blessed story I had to tell that hour, and I had
been so close to Calvary that night that I could tell it in earnest! The
poor face grew ashy pale as I talked, and the man threw up his arms as if
his agony was mastering him. Two or three times he gasped, as if losing his
breath. Then, clutching me, he said, "What's that you said t'other day
'bout talkin' to some one out o' sight?"
"It is praying. I tell Him what I want."
"Pray now, quick. Tell him I want my little girl again. Tell him anything
you want to."
I took the hands of the child, and placed them on the trembling hands of
the man. Then, dropping on my knees, with the child in front of me, I bade
her pray for the man who had lost his little Mamie, and wanted to see her
again.
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