Will looked at me with such a penetrating yet puzzled glance, that I thought best to tell him all, knowing that Walter hath no nearer or warmer friend than this his foster-brother and old playmate. "I am betrothed to Mr. Corbet," said I; "we do not make the matter public as yet, but his mother and my Lady are in the secret. You see, I have the best right to know everything, and to help—" But here, for the first time, I broke down, and sobbed hysterically. No woman could be more tender in her ministrations than the old sailor. And when I recovered myself, which I did presently, he opened some secret nook and brought out a bottle of wine, of which he would have me take a glass, and indeed I was glad to do so. "My Lord hath none such in his cellars," said he, with some pride. "'Tis Canary, which hath made the voyage to South America. Marry, the Bishop who carried it over to St. Jago for his own drinking, little guessed whose palate it would regale!" 'Tis strange to myself how I remember and write down all these trifles. I seem to find therein a kind of comfort and relief. My Lady noticed my pale looks at supper, and asked me if my head ached again, for ever since the fall of the candlestick, I have been subject to hard headaches. I told her it did, which was true enough, and she bade me go to rest early, and not rise in the morning unless I felt able. But I cannot rest. Oh that I had some one to whom I could tell all! And so I have. Faithless that I am, is there not One who knows all, who has promised help and comfort according to our needs, and in whose all-powerful hands my Walter is, and must be safe, wherever he is. He cannot go out of God's sight. We are both His children, and love Him, and so all things must needs be well with him, however hard and bitter they may seem now. Oh, how thankful I am that I have learned before this great trouble came upon me to regard my Maker, no longer as a hard taskmaster, exacting so much for so much, but as a kind, tender, loving Father. "He that spared not His own Son—" His own Son! _Feast of St. Michael. September 29._ I have been to church to-day, and feel wondrously comforted and soothed thereby. It seemed at first as if I could not go—as if my service would be only a mockery, and a lip-service: but Betty wished to go, and I know what my duty was. She hath become very fond of going to church, and my Lord no longer puts any obstacle in the way.