Presently Gretchen spoke. Her voice was thick, her accent even more foreign than usual, and at first the listener could not understand the words. But she put her ear close down to the bed and made out:-- "Miss Etta, am I going to die?" "I don't know," said Etta, bewildered; "I hope not." "I'm not afraid," said the German, "but--but it looks all so strange and dark. You didn't use to tell us about Jesus, and I couldn't rightly understand the minister; but don't it say _here_," putting her hand upon the Bible by her side, "that he will save everybody that comes to him?" Her teacher nodded. "Coming to him is asking him, isn't it?" Another nod. "Then, please, Miss Etta, ask him for me. I can't. I can't seem to think. Ask him _now_." Poor Etta! never in her life had she been so confused. She had only just learned to pray for herself. She had not yet overcome the reticence which we all feel concerning our own interest in spiritual things sufficiently to tell her own sister of her experience and purpose--how could she bring herself to do this hard thing which her scholar asked of her? But the scholar had a human soul, and that soul might be very near to eternity. How could she refuse to do this thing which, by the very nature of her position toward her, the scholar had a right to ask? Then an idea struck her, and opening her hymn-book,--for she had expected to attend the evening service after ascertaining the cause of her scholar's absence,--she knelt close to the window, and in the fast-fading light read in a tone of reverent supplication the hymn commencing,-- "Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou biddest me come to Thee, Oh, Lamb of God, I come!" Every word of the hymn was prayer, and Etta felt grateful for this help in doing what would have otherwise seemed to her impossible. She threw her whole soul into the last line of each verse, and could not but hope that Gretchen, who lay quite still now, though saying nothing, was following and saying in her heart,-- "Oh, Lamb of God, I come!" After this there was silence and darkness, and Etta continued to kneel with her face hidden on the window-sill, praying silently that God would indeed save this soul, teaching it that which heretofore she had been unable and unworthy to teach. The effort at obedience to what was so evidently her duty had greatly strengthened the girl; she felt that God was with her in the still room, and the glad joy of those who against their own inclinations work for him began to spring up in her soul. The doctor and Mrs. Doyle found her thus, and springing to her feet, Etta came over to the bed to hear what the former thought about Gretchen.