"You were being providentially led from the path
and guided to the bedside of this poor girl, that she might not die
without the consolations of religion."
"I cannot but believe so," he replied, gravely. "We missionaries
witness strange things sometimes. And what wonder? Is not the mercy
of God as great, the intercession of Mary as powerful, as ever? To me
this incident is but another beautiful example of the efficacy of
prayer."
Before long Father Friday was again summoned within, and thus all night
he watched and prayed beside the resigned little sufferer, whose life
was slipping so fast away. In the grey of the early morning she died.
"Mussy me, I feel like I'd lost one of my own!" sobbed Mirandy.
"Yes, it's cur'ous how fond of her we grew; though she jest lay there
so uncomplainin', an' never took much notice of nothin'," said Josh,
drawing his brawny arm across his eyes.
An hour later he led the way before Father Friday and myself, and
conducted us to the bridle-path, which joined the turnpike several
miles below the town. By noon we were safely at home.
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