Madam drew her gently one side, and began walking slowly around the fountain, in order to be beyond the hearing of the others. “In the first moments of our blind, unreasoning grief, perhaps not,” she answered, with grave sweetness. “I have known, dear child, what it is— ‘To wander on without a ray of hope, To find no respite even in our sleep, Life’s sun extinguished, in the dark to grope, And hopeless through the weary world to creep.’ That is the way life seemed to me once, but in time I came to realize that in this world of weary toil and waiting there must be some burden-bearers, and God meant me to be one of them.” “But all burdens are not heavy alike,” murmured Editha. “No, dear; but if ‘Our Father’ sends them, we may be very sure that it is right for us to bear them; and Frances Anne Kemble tells us: ‘A sacred burden is this life ye bear, Look on it—lift it, bear it patiently, Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly, Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin, But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.’” “Those are brave, cheering words. If I could but have some kind comforter like you all the time, I could bear it better,” Editha said, with fast-dropping tears, and realizing more than she had ever done before how utterly alone she was in the world. “My dear, you forget the great Divine Comforter. Haven’t you yet learned to trust Him?” madam asked, with great tenderness. “You—oh, yes; at least I _thought_ I had until this last trouble came upon me, which has made it seem almost as if ‘a blank despair like the shadow of a starless night was thrown over the world in which I moved alone.’ Many and many a time I have felt as if I must lie down like a weary child and weep out the life of sorrow which I have borne, and which I still must bear until the end,” the young girl said, with almost passionate earnestness. “My poor child, how my heart grieves for you. Mr. Tressalia has told me something of your trouble, and I think I never knew of anything quite so sad before; but, believe me, some good must come out of it. You are young, and this sad lesson patiently learned will give you strength of character for the future, whatever it may be. You know we are told that out of sorrow we come forth purified if we bear it rightly.” “Then I fear I shall never become purified,” Editha answered, bitterly. “I _cannot_ bear it rightly. I am not patient. My heart is constantly rebelling against the unjustness, as it seems to me, of it all. Why did not some instinct warn me that Earle was my brother before I had learned to love him so well?” she concluded, wildly.