"I did not mean for one moment to deny that," said he; "I expressed myself ill if you thought so. But we are told--'According to your faith be it unto you,'[22] and of what may come from 'faith as a grain of mustard-seed.'[23] And it seems to me that the words on that leaf had never been penned by such a hand as Philip's, unless his faith were at least equal to a grain of mustard-seed. Remember, dear heart, that in His hand who will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax,[24] are the keys of Death and of Hell.[25] I can trust Him to do right, even to the brother I loved so well." Lady Ingram returned to consciousness on the following day, but Thérèse reported that she was very weak and low, and desired to see no one but herself. On the Sunday morning she suddenly sent for Celia and Edward. They found her lying propped up by pillows, her eyes sunk and heavy, and her face very pale. She recognized her step-children with a faint smile. "Come and kiss me, Edward," she said, in a low soft voice: "I have scarce seen you yet. And Celia, too. You loved him, both of you. Now listen to me, and I will tell you what I shall do. As soon as my health and strength admit, I shall take the veil at the convent of Sainte Marie de Chaillot. I have no more to live for. You are both old enough to take care of yourselves. And, after all, life in this world is not everything. I shall make my retreat, and after some years of penance and prayer, I trust I shall have grace to make my conversion. You, Edward--do you propose to remain in the army?" "I do not think I shall, Mother." "You will keep up your estates?" "I should prefer living in England." "And Celia; what will you do, my dear?" "I shall go back to Ashcliffe if nobody want me. If Edward wish me to live with him I will willingly do so, especially in England; but even then I should like to pay a long visit to Ashcliffe before settling anywhere else." "I should be very happy to have you with me, dear," said Edward, quietly, to this; "but I do not wish to be any tie to you. There is no necessity for your living with me, for I am about to marry. So pray do which you prefer." "Whom are you about to marry, Edward?" asked Lady Ingram, turning to him with a look of some interest in her languid eyes. "None whom you know, Mother. One with whom I met on my travels." "I am glad you are marrying," she said, "And how is Celia to return to Ashcliffe?" "Oh! with Harry," replied Celia, quickly. "He is not at liberty yet," observed Edward, gravely. "But you will set him free to go with me?" entreated his sister. "I have nothing to do with it. You will, I suppose. I make you a present of my prisoner." "Oh, thank you! If Harry's liberty depends on me, he shall have it directly." "Edward," said Lady Ingram, "I have a favor to ask from you." "Name it, and take it, Mother."