"Ah, let my Damoiselle hush there!" cried the old woman, in a tone of positive pain. "No, no, never! She does not mean to cut her old nurse to the heart, who loves her so dearly. But she will do it, if she says such things of the gracious Lord." "Now, Margot, listen to me. I thought something was going to happen which would wring my heart to its very core. All night long I lay awake, praying and crying to God to stay it. And He has not heard me. He has let it happen—knowing what it would be to me. And dost thou not call that cruel?" "Ah, I guessed right. Satan is tempting my Damoiselle, very, very hard. I thought so from her face.—Damoiselle, the good Lord cannot be cruel: it is not in His nature. No, no!" "Dost thou know what has happened, Margot?" "I? Ha!—no." "The Lady Sybil, incited by her nobles, has consented to divorce Count Guy, and wed with another." I saw astonishment, grief, indignation, chase one another over old Marguerite’s face, followed by a look of extreme perplexity. For a few moments she stood thus, and did not speak. Then she put her hands together, like a child at prayer, and lifted her eyes upward. "Sir God," she said, "I cannot understand it. I do not at all see why this is. Good Lord, it puzzles poor old Marguerite very much. But Thou knowest. Thou knowest all things. And Thou canst not be hard, nor cruel, whatever things may look like. Thou art love. Have patience with us, Sir God, when we are puzzled, and when it looks to us as if things were going all wrong. And teach the child, for she does not know. My poor lamb is quite lost in the wilderness, and the great wolf is very near her. Gentle Jesu Christ, leave the ninety and nine safe locked in the good fold, and come and look for this little lamb. If Thou dost not come, the great wolf will get her. And she is Thy little lamb. It is very cold in the wilderness, and very dark. Oh, do make haste!" "Thou seemest to think that God Almighty is sure to hear thee, Margot," said I wearily. Yet I could not help feeling touched by that simple prayer for me. "Hear me?" she said. "Ah no, my Damoiselle, I cannot expect God Almighty to hear me. But He will hear the blessed Christ. He always hears Him. And He will ask for me what I really need, which is far better than hearing me. Because, my Damoiselle sees, I make so many blunders; but He makes none." "What blunders didst thou make just now, Margot?" "Ha! Do I know, I? When He translated it into the holy language of Heaven, the blessed Christ would put them all right. Maybe, where I said, ’Be quick,’ He would say, ’Be slow.’" "I am sure that would be a blunder!" said I bitterly. "Ha! Does it not seem so, to my Damoiselle and her servant? But the good God knows. If my Damoiselle would only trust Him!" "’Trust’!" cried I, thinking of Sybil. "Ah, Margot, I have had enough of trusting. I feel as if I could never trust man again—nor woman."