"Dear Miggles, the Litany was written at the time of the Plague of London, and was meant to be a sort of national penitential psalm. The plague was believed to have been sent as a punishment for the sins of the nation, and the priests marched in procession through the streets intoning this cry for mercy. It was never intended to be used as a regular part of the Church service in times of peace and prosperity; and I think a good many people feel like you, who would not have the courage to put their thoughts into words. A service of praise would often seem more dignified and inspiring. Dear, good, kind little soul, why trouble yourself to find trouble? If you have peace, you have the greatest of all blessings, and a blessing that is never enjoyed, dear Miggles, until it has been won. I'm struggling for it now, but it's a long way off. I have still many battles to fight." The old woman looked at the young one with a long, questioning glance. "Yes, dear child! I have seen it, and wondered. But you are so young still, and your life is ahead. We shall see you happy like Jean, starting your home with a fine young husband--" "No!" Vanna held up a warning hand. "Miggles, you have confided in me. I'll tell you something about myself, but you must never allude to it again. It doesn't bear speaking of. There is a reason why I can never marry. I can't tell you what it is, but it is fixed--irrevocable. I shall never be happy like Jean." Miggles stretched out her hand and laid it upon the dark head, smoothing the hair with gentle touch. But she did not speak. In the course of her sixty years she had heard many such assertions from the lips of girls who had afterwards lived to become happy wives and mothers. She told herself that dear Vanna had no doubt suffered a disappointment, and was feeling cast-down and hopeless in consequence. Quite natural, poor dear--quite; but in time youth would reassert itself; she would meet some one else, such an attractive girl as she was, and would find that the heart which she supposed dead was still capable of love and joy. Oh, certainly she would marry and be happy; but for the moment one could not tell her so. That would be cruel. Time! time! that was the best medicine. She smoothed and stroked with tender, motherly touch, and Vanna, blessing her for her silence, felt the sudden crystallising of an idea which had been growing quietly in her mind during the past week. "Miggles," she said quietly, turning her head sideways, so as to be able to look the other in the face without disturbing that caressing hand. "Miggles, how would you like it if I came down to live with you at Seacliff? Carter can look after the house and make you comfortable, but you would have no companion, and might feel lonely sometimes. Evenings seem very long and dreary when one is alone. We are two solitary women, alone in the world, without any ties; we might help each other. What do you say?"