CORNELLI
“I have to go away, Martha, but not right away. Papa says that I have to go,” the child called out on entering. “Papa told me to come to you; I think it was because I cried all the time and he wanted me to stop. But I won’t stop, unless you promise to help me to stay at home. I do not want to go to all the strange children. I couldn’t stand it; oh, no, I couldn’t! Oh, it would be dreadful. Please help me, Martha, help me!”
The terrible fear in Cornelli’s voice and the sight of her swollen eyes went straight to Martha’s heart.
“Come and sit down on your little stool the way you used to in the old times, Cornelli,” she said lovingly, “and I’ll tell you something that will help and console you. It has helped me, too, and still does when trouble comes. You see, Cornelli, I once had to go through a terrible sorrow just as great as yours is to-day. I had to give a child I loved back to God. So I cried, as loudly as you are crying and even louder: ‘No, I can’t do it, I can’t!’ The more I fought against it, the more terrible I felt, till in the end I even thought I should despair. So I cried
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