He gave several sheets of closely written note paper into Mrs. Mandeville’s hand. "I must not be away any more lesson time, must I?" He left the letter with her, and returned to the school-room. Mrs. Mandeville opened the pages, and read: "WILLMAR COURT, S. DEVON. "_My very dear Carol,_ "Until your first letter arrived it was difficult to realize that the train had carried you so far away from us. It seemed as if a spirit of sadness were creeping over the household, even the dogs and birds felt the subtle influence, and I had to dispel it by realizing that there can be no separation in Mind. Nothing can come between loving thoughts. I am as near to you in thought, and you to me as if these human arms enfolded you. It rejoiced me to read that you felt my thoughts like loving arms around you. "Your first letter was awaited with eager expectation. I had to read parts to everyone. When Bob brought up your pony for his morning lump of sugar, I caught him brushing a tear away with his coat sleeve, as he asked, ’Will it be long before Master Carol comes home again?’ I told him that was a question I could not answer, but possibly you might have the pony sent to Mandeville, and in that case he would no doubt accompany it. "The bright happy strain of your first letter made me glad. Before I had time to answer it came the second in a minor key. After reading it, a thought that something was wrong tried hard to creep in. But I knew it could not be. ’Love governs and controls all events with unerring wisdom.’ So I just took my hat and went for our favorite walk by the stream, to think things out. I seemed to feel your little hand in mine as I walked. I sat down on the old tree-stump, where you used to rest when you first began to walk; and do you remember the thrush which was always singing on the other side of the stream, how we used to think he sang a special song for you, and the words were, ’God is Love’? He was there on the same branch of the tree. I feel so sure now that it is the same bird. ’What message have you for Carol this morning?’ I asked, and it seemed that the notes changed and the message came so clearly: ’All is right that seems most wrong.’