"It is your proper rightful place," said Rowena firmly. "You used to be happy in His service—you have acknowledged it. You have tried, like the Prodigal, to feed your soul on husks, and you have been brought very low. There is nothing for it but for you to come home with that cry on your lips, 'Father, I have sinned.'" There was silence in the room, then Mrs. Burke said in a strangely gentle tone for her: "I told you in town that I was getting old and tired, didn't I? That I envied you the comfort you get out of your religion. Now I lie on my couch here and I think and think and think until I nearly go mad. Do you honestly think, having cast away my confidence, that I can ever get it again? There's an awful verse—I looked it up on the sly this morning when I was alone—it's in Hebrews. It says it's impossible for those who've once had the real thing and have fallen away to come back again—to renew them again unto repentance. What do you say to that?" "What do you make of the parable of the lost sheep?" Rowena said. "Our Saviour told that Himself, and He gave two other instances in the same chapter. There were the lost sheep, the lost bit of money, and the lost son. Dear Mrs. Burke, if you want to return to your rightful Owner, do you think He will refuse to take you? Don't you remember this verse spoken to the people who had forsaken God for idolatry: 'Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, and I will not cause Mine anger to fall upon you: for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and I will not keep anger for ever. Only acknowledge thine iniquity, that thou hast transgressed against the Lord thy God.'" "How can you remember so much of the Bible?" "I love it," said Rowena simply. "I am always reading it. If you started to read it, you would find it would tell you all you want to know." "I suppose I may as well tell you that when I was seeing death so close to me out of the car windows, when we stuck in the river, that I was in such a funk that I vowed a vow—I really did. I promised to alter my life, if it was spared. I suppose I shall have to do it." "Then if you have made up your mind to do that, you'll end by being a very happy woman," said Rowena. "And you don't want any more sermons from me, for you know what will bring peace to your soul." They sat very silent then for some time. This was only one of the many serious talks they had together. Rowena marvelled at the gentle childishness which Mrs. Burke showed in these conversations, and then one day she told Rowena that she had begun to pray again. "I find it much more difficult than I used to do, so many doubts come into my head. But I just go on, and I feel better, after a bit. I want to make my peace with God. If He'll be willing to take just these last failing years of my life, I'm willing to hand myself over to His care."