Roger smiled and sighed. "That is hard work, Christie, is it not? But it would be no cross if it were not hard and heavy. Thou canst not but feel that it will be a glad thing to lay it down; but now, while God layeth it on thee, be willing to bear it for His sake. He giveth it for thy sake, that thou mayest be made partaker of His holiness; be thou ready to carry it for His. `The cup which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?'" "There'll be no crosses and cups in heaven, will there, Father?" "Not one, Christabel." "Only crowns and harps?" the child went on thoughtfully. "Aunt Alice has both, Father. I think she must make right sweet music. I hope I sha'n't be far from her. Perhaps it won't be very long before I hear her. Think you it will, Father?" Little Christabel had no idea what a sharp cross she had laid on her father's heart by asking him that question. Roger Hall had to fight with himself before he answered it, and it was scarcely to her that his reply was addressed. "`Not as I will, but as Thou wilt.' `He knoweth the way that I take.' `I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee.'" "Oh, Father, what pretty verses! Were you thinking perhaps you'd miss me if I went soon, poor Father? But maybe, I sha'n't, look you. 'Tis only when I ache so, and feel all over strings, sometimes I think-- But we don't know, Father, do we? And we shall both be there, you know. It won't signify much, will it, which of us goes first?" "It will only signify," said Roger huskily, "to the one that tarrieth." "Well," answered Christie brightly, "and it won't do that long. I reckon we scarce need mind." CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. ONCE MORE AT HOME. Up and down his garden--or, to speak more accurately, his brother's garden--strolled Mr Justice Roberts, his hands behind his back, on a mild afternoon at the beginning of December 1558. His thoughts, which of course we have the privilege of reading, ran somewhat in this fashion-- "Well, 'tis a mercy all is pretty well settled now. Nothing but joy and welcome for the Queen's accession. Every man about, pretty nigh, looks as if he had been released from prison, and was so thankful he scarce knew how to express it. To be sure there be a few contradictious folks that would fain have had the old fashions tarry; but, well-a-day! they be but an handful. I'll not say I'm not glad myself. I never did love committing those poor wretches that couldn't believe to order. _I_ believe in doing your duty and letting peaceable folks be. If they do reckon a piece of bread to be a piece of bread, I'd never burn them for it." By this reflection it will be seen that Mr Justice Roberts, in his heart, was neither a Papist nor a Protestant, but a good-natured Gallio, whose convictions were pliable when wanted so to be.