And where is Christian now? She is lying with rigid marble face and closed eyes, insensible to all the care bestowed upon her, in a dead faint. They are chafing her cold hands and bathing her temples, and using all the readiest means at hand for her recovery. Is Christian gone?--can this letter have killed her?--has she passed away under the pressure of this last great calamity. No: God has happier days in store for his patient servant yet; and by-and-by she is raised from her deathlike faint, and sits up once more; but it seems as if despair had claimed a second prey, so pitiful and mournful is that face, and its expression so changed, that they are all afraid; and little Mary clasps her hand in an agony, and lifts up her tear-stained face to her sister, and whispers-- “Christian! Christian!” in broken, tearful accents. “We will make every inquiry possible to be made,” said James, soothingly; “we may yet bring him back, Christian.” “I don’t know what this frenzy means!” says Mr. Melville. “Depend upon it Halbert will come back, and he’ll soon see the folly of this outburst of feeling; and you see, Christian, he says he’s no infidel or atheist now, so you need not be so put out of the way by his letter.” Mary says nothing more but “Christian! Christian!” and her arm glides round her sister, and her graceful head rests on Christian’s bosom. It is enough: she may not--must not sink down in despair; she has duties to all those around her; she must not give way, but be up and doing. And there are words of better comfort spoken in her ear to-night ere sleep comes near her; the hand that rocked her cradle in infancy, that tended her so carefully in childhood, draws the curtain gently round her. “Dinna misdoubt, or lose hope, Miss Christian,” sobs old Ailie, her own tears falling thick and fast the while she speaks; “the bairn of sae mony supplications will never be a castaway; he may gang astray for a while, he may be misled, puir lad, or left to himself and fall, and have a heavy weird to dree or a’ be done, but he’ll no be a lost ane. No, Miss Christian, no, dinna think sae, and distress yoursel’ as you’re doing--take my word, ye’ll baith hear and see guid o’ Mr. Halbert yet.” Oh, holy and sublime philosophy, what sure consolation flows in your simple words!