But the words the old woman had spoken were with Cecile when later
in the day she went out to play with Maurice and Toby; were with her
when she lay down to sleep that night. What a pity Jesus only guided
people to the Celestial City and to the New Jerusalem! What a pity
that, as He was so very good, He did not do more! What a pity that He
could not be induced to take a little girl who was very young, and
very ignorant, but who had a great care and anxiety on her mind, into
France, even as far as, if necessary, to the south of France! Cecile
wondered if He could be induced to do it. Perhaps old Mrs. Bell, who
knew Him so well, would ask Him. Cecile guessed that Jesus must have
a very kind heart. For what did that girl say who once sat upon a
doorstep, and sang about him?

"I am so glad Jesus loves even me."

That girl was as poor as Cecile herself. Nay, indeed, she was much
poorer. How white was her thin face, how ragged her shabby gown! But
then, again, how triumphant was her voice as she sang! What a happy
light filled her sunken eyes!

There was no doubt at all that Jesus loved this poor girl; and if He
loved her, why might He not love Cecile too? Yes, He surely had a
great and loving heart, capable of taking in everybody; for Cecile's
stepmother, though she was not _very_ nice, had smiled when that
little story of the poor girl on the doorstep had been told to her;
had smiled and seemed comforted, and had repeated the words, "Jesus
loves even me," softly over to herself when she was dying.

Cecile, too, now looking back over many things, remembered her own
father. Cecile's father, Maurice D'Albert, was a Roman Catholic by