"I am not going to preach to you now," said Mrs. Landholm, and yet the slight failing of her voice did it -- how lastingly! -- "I cannot, -- and I need not. Only one word. If you sow and reap a crop that will perish in the using, what will you do when it is gone? -- and remember it is said of the redeemed, that their works _do follow_ them. Remember that. -- One word more," she said after a pause. "Let me have it to say in that day, -- 'Of all which thou gavest me have I lost none'! --" Not preach to them? And what was her hidden face and bowed head? -- a preaching the like of which they were never to hear from mortal voices. But not a word, not a lisp, fell from one of them. Winifred had run off; the rest hardly stirred; till Mrs. Landholm rose up, and gravely kissing one and the other prepared to leave the room. "Where is Winifred?" said her brother suddenly missing her. "I don't know. I am sure she is somewhere praying for you." They said no more, even to each other, that night. Nor much the next day. It was the time for doing, not thinking. There was not indeed much to do, except to get off; but that seemed a great deal. It was done at last. Mrs. Landholm from the window of the kitchen watched them get into the wagon and drive off; and then she sat down by the window to cry. Asahel had gone to ride as far as the mountain's foot with his father and brothers; and Winifred knelt down beside her mother to lean her head upon her; they could not get near enough just then. It was only to help each other weep, for neither could comfort the other nor be comforted, for a time. Yet the feeling of the two, like as it seemed outwardly, was far unlike within. In the child it was the spring flood of a little brook, bringing, to be sure, momentary desolation; in the mother it was the flow of the great sea, still and mighty. And when it grew outwardly quiet, the same depth was there. They got into each other's arms at last, and pressed cheek to cheek and kissed each other many times; but the first word was Mrs. Landholm's, saying, "Come -- we had better go and get tea -- Asahel will be back directly." Asahel came back in good spirits, having had his cry on the road, and they all took tea with what cheerfulness they might. But after tea Winifred sat in the chimney corner gazing into the fire, very still and pale and worn-looking; her sober blue eyes intently fixed on something that was not there. Very intently, so that it troubled her mother; for Winifred had not strength of frame to bear strong mind-working. She watched her. "What, mamma?" said the little girl with a half start, as a hand was laid gently and remindingly upon her shoulder. "I should rather ask you what," said her mother tenderly. "Rest, daughter, can't you?" "I wasn't worrying, mamma." "Wa'n't you?" "I was thinking of 'They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.'" "Why, dear?" "I am so glad I can wash mine, mother."