I have been thinking much about your father, a man whose keen sense of honor, and large charity, will be discerned more and more clearly when the present confusion is straightened out. Linda's suddenly blinded eyes closed, and she again held the letter to her breast a minute before going on. * * * * * He is incapable of wrong intention. Do you notice that I say "is"? I wonder if you are feeling that sense of continuous immortal life which is your rightful and best comfort at this time. All that you loved best in your father were traits which your hands could not touch. Your heart and mind only discerned them. They are yours still, and they were that real part of him which God sustained and now sustains, and which were the reflections of His Light and Love. I cannot touch your body now, any more than if it had ceased to dwell upon this earth,--any more than you can touch your father's,--but that makes you no less real to me. My tall little Linda speaks to me in her generosity, her lovingness, her gayety, as vividly as if you were beside me this minute, and it would be so if I knew I was never to look upon your face again. "The flesh profiteth nothing," the Bible says; and it is one of those lightning flashes of truth that glance away from us until the trained thought is sensitized to receive it; but after that, little by little it proves itself. Perhaps I am talking too long, but please know that I am thinking of you daily, with thoughts full of love. The Comforter that Jesus promised us is a real Existence, and "underneath are the everlasting arms." "As one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort you, saith the Lord." How I love to think of that when I think of my dear girl. I found those words a few weeks ago on the calendar you gave me, and now I give the wonderful promise back to you. Say it over to yourself, dear child, even if you don't now see how or when it will come true, for His promises are sure. It only rests with us to open our hearts to receive them. Your loving friend, MAUD PORTER. Linda's lip was caught between her teeth, and her brow frowning, as she finished reading. She turned the letter back to read again the sentences about her father. Here was no uncertain note. She crumpled the sheets between her hands and closed her eyes. "Oh, God, You have taken away my father. Help us now to clear his name!" It was a cry from her heart, the first time in all this eternity of days that her thought had turned to the Higher Power with any feeling save resentment. She saw her friend lying on the sun-warmed rocks in the sunlit atmosphere of a joyous June day, longing to help her, longing to impart to her the sustaining calm of her own faith, and gratitude woke feebly in her.