"Does GOD love hares?"
"Yes!" I said. "I'm sure He does! He loves every living thing.
Even sinful men. How much more the animals, that cannot sin!"
"I don't know what 'sin' means," said Sylvie. And I didn't try to
explain it.
"Come, my child," I said, trying to lead her away. "Wish good-bye to
the poor hare, and come and look for blackberries."
"Good-bye, poor hare!" Sylvie obediently repeated, looking over her
shoulder at it as we turned away. And then, all in a moment, her
self-command gave way. Pulling her hand out of mine, she ran back to
where the dead hare was lying, and flung herself down at its side in
such an agony of grief as I could hardly have believed possible in so
young a child.
"Oh, my darling, my darling!" she moaned, over and over again.
"And God meant your life to be so beautiful!"
Sometimes, but always keeping her face hidden on the ground, she would
reach out one little hand, to stroke the poor dead thing, and then once
more bury her face in her hands, and sob as if her heart would break.
[Image...The dead hare]
I was afraid she would really make herself ill: still I thought
it best to let her weep away the first sharp agony of grief: and, after
a few minutes, the sobbing gradually ceased, and Sylvie rose to her
feet, and looked calmly at me, though tears were still streaming down
her cheeks.
I did not dare to speak again, just yet; but simply held out my hand to
her, that we might quit the melancholy spot.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200