There was no coffee-stall opened under the railway arch the following morning, and Daniel’s regular customers stood amazed as they drew near the empty corner where they were accustomed to get their early breakfast. It would have astonished them still more if they could have seen how he was occupied in the miserable loft. He had intrusted a friendly woman out of the court to buy food and fuel, and all night long he had watched beside Jessica, who was light-headed and delirious, but in the wanderings of her thoughts and words often spoke to God, and prayed for her Mr. Daniel. The neighbor informed him that the child’s mother had gone off some days before, fearing that she was ill of some infectious fever, and that she, alone, had taken a little care of her from time to time. As soon as the morning came he sent for a doctor, and after receiving permission from him he wrapped the poor deserted Jessica in his coat, and bearing her tenderly in his arms down the ladder he carried her to a cab, which the neighbor brought to the entrance of the court. It was to no other than his own solitary home that he had resolved to take her; and when the mistress of the lodgings stood at her door with her arms a-kimbo, to forbid the admission of the wretched and neglected child, her tongue was silenced by the gleam of a half-sovereign which Daniel slipped into the palm of her hard hand.

By that afternoon’s post the minister received the following letter:

“REVERED SIR,

“If you will condescend to enter under my humble roof you will have the pleasure of seeing little Jessica, who is at the point of death, unless God in his mercy restores her. Hoping you will excuse this liberty, as I cannot leave the child, I remain with duty,

“Your respectful servant,

“D. STANDRING.

“P. S. Jessica desires her best love and duty to Miss Jane and Winny.”

The minister laid aside the book he was reading, and without any delay started off for his chapel-keeper’s dwelling. There was Jessica lying restfully upon Daniel’s bed, but the pinched features were deadly pale, and the sunken eyes shone with a waning light. She was too feeble to turn her head when the door opened, and he paused for a moment, looking at her and at Daniel, who, seated at the head of the bed, was turning over the papers in his desk, and reckoning up once more the savings of his lifetime. But when the minister advanced into the middle of the room Jessica’s white cheeks flushed into deep red.

“Oh, minister,” she cried, “God has given me every thing I wanted except paying Mr. Daniel for the coffee he used to give me!”

“Ah! but God has paid me over and over again,” said Daniel, rising to receive the minister. “He’s given me my own soul in exchange for it. Let me make bold to speak to you this once, sir. You’re a very learned man, and a great preacher, and many people flock to hear you till I’m hard put to it to find seats for them at times; but all the while, hearkening to you every blessed Sabbath, I was losing my soul, and you never once said to me, though you saw me scores and scores of times, ‘Standring, are you a saved man?’”

“Standring,” said the minister in a tone of great distress and regret, “I always took it for granted that you were a Christian.”

“Ah,” continued Daniel, thoughtfully, “but God wanted somebody to ask me that question, and he did not find anybody in the congregation, so he sent this poor little lass to me. Well, I don’t mind telling now, even if I lose the place; but for a long time, nigh upon ten years, I’ve kept a coffee-stall on week-days in the city, and cleared, one week with another, about ten shillings: but I was afraid the chapel-wardens wouldn’t approve of the coffee business, as low, so I kept it a close secret, and always shut up early of a morning. It’s me that sold Jessica her cup of coffee, which you paid for, sir.”

“There’s no harm in it, my good fellow,” said the minister kindly; “you need make no secret of it.”

“Well,” resumed Daniel, “the questions this poor little creature has asked me have gone quicker and deeper down to my conscience than all your sermons, if I may make so free as to say it. She’s come often and often of a morning, and looked into my face with those clear eyes of hers, and said, ‘Don’t you love Jesus Christ, Mr. Daniel?’ ‘Doesn’t it make you very glad that God is your Father, Mr. Daniel?’ ‘Are we getting nearer heaven every day, Mr. Daniel?’ And one day says she, ‘Are you going to give all your money to God, Mr. Daniel?’ Ah, that question made me think indeed, and it’s never been answered till this day. While I’ve been sitting beside the bed here I’ve counted up all my savings: £397 18s. it is; and I’ve said, ‘Lord, it’s all thine; and I’d give every penny of it rather than lose the child, if it be thy blessed will to spare her life.’”

Daniel’s voice quavered at the last words, and his face sank upon the pillow where Jessica’s feeble and motionless head lay. There was a very sweet yet surprised smile upon her face, and she lifted her wasted fingers to rest upon the bowed head beside her, while she shut her eyes and shaded them with her other weak hand.

“Our Father,” she said in a faint whisper, which still reached the ears of the minister and the beadle, “I asked you to let me come home to heaven; but if Mr. Daniel wants me, please to let me stay a little longer, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.” For some minutes after Jessica’s prayer there was a deep and unbroken silence in the room, Daniel still hiding his face upon the pillow, and the minister standing beside them with bowed head and closed eyes, as if he also were praying. When he looked up again at the forsaken and desolate child he saw that her feeble hand had fallen from her face, which looked full of rest and peace, while her breath came faintly but regularly through her parted lips. He took her little hand into his own with a pang of fear and grief; but instead of the mortal chillness of death he felt the pleasant warmth and moisture of life. He touched Daniel’s shoulder, and as he lifted up his head in sudden alarm he whispered to him, “The child is not dead, but is only asleep.”

Before Jessica was fully recovered Daniel rented a little house for himself and his adopted daughter to dwell in. He made many inquiries after her mother, but she never appeared again in her old haunts, and he was well pleased that there was nobody to interfere with his charge of Jessica. When Jessica grew strong enough, many a cheerful walk had they together, in the early mornings, as they wended their way to the railway bridge, where the little girl took her place behind the stall and soon learned to serve the daily customers; and many a happy day was spent in helping to sweep and dust the chapel, into which she had crept so secretly at first, her great delight being to attend to the pulpit and the vestry, and the pew where the minister’s children sat, while Daniel and the woman he employed cleaned the rest of the building. Many a Sunday also the minister in his pulpit, and his little daughters in their pew, and Daniel treading softly about the aisles, as their glance fell upon Jessica’s eager, earnest, happy face, thought of the first time they saw her sitting among the congregation, and of Jessica’s first prayer.

Jessica’s Mother

Hesba Stretton