“Ah, papa, I know why: it is because I agitate myself so much. I know it is very wrong, and I will try to be quite calm, and to comfort you more, papa; but I cannot always do it, though sometimes for a moment it seems quite easy, and I only feel that God has done it for my good, and has sent me this great trial because he loves me and wishes to make me better, and that perhaps he has shut my eyes on the world that I may think more of my beautiful home in heaven; for, papa, do you not know how much I had begun to love the world; the love of it was creeping into me, and you did not know it; ever since we came into it I have loved it every day more and more--the people, the flowers, this house, every thing. Yes, I have loved the world better than the island, where I thought so much more of God. And I used to like so much to hear Bill and Susan call me their little mistress,--all this was very wrong, and I dare say this is why God has shut it all out, the trees, the green fields, the beautiful flowing river, and even your face, my own papa--and for _ever_!--oh, that is the part I cannot bear.” “Hush, my child, my own Leila;--do not say there is any thing you cannot bear. He who has sent the trial will give you strength. Remember, we are told, that ‘If we endure chastening, God dealeth with us as with sons, for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not?’--and though for the present it is very grievous to you, He will, when His own righteous purposes have been fulfilled, bring to your heart that sweet peace ‘which the world cannot know;’--but, my child, you are exciting yourself in talking too much, and I am most anxious that you should keep very quiet now, and try to get a little sleep.” “Well, papa, I will. Do you remember that day, papa, when you said to me, ‘Leila, remember, duties are ours, but events are in the hands of God?’ I am glad I have thought of this now, for it comforts me--it tells me it is my duty to be patient and to trust it all to God--now I will try to sleep.” She did try, but soon she started up again, and clasped her papa’s hand more tightly. “Papa,” she said, “there is something I wish to say to you; and then I think I could sleep;--will you write to Aunt Stanley, and tell her every thing, and beg her to come here to-day as soon as possible, and bring them all with her. I shall be better when I have seen them all”--(she stopped and shuddered)--“I shall be better when they are here, I mean; and bid aunt tell Selina not to be very sorry, and to remember how God comforted her when she was dumb, and gave her strength to bear it; and He is giving me strength also, dear papa.”