“Oh, Miss Leila!” she exclaimed, “poor, _poor_ Peggy Dobie, and our valuable Dash, and all the poor dumb animals.” “What is it, Nurse?” Leila cried, starting up and rubbing her eyes; “are they arrived?--but no; that is not possible; they cannot arrive for two days yet. What has happened? why do you look so? Oh, tell me!” “Calm yourself, my dear Miss Leila. It was not like my usual prudence to frighten you in this way; but did you not hear the awful wind in the night? listen to it now, how it roars.” Leila was out of bed in a moment, and gazing from the window. The lawn was strewed with leaves and branches from the trees; one branch lay across the doorway, so very large, it seemed an entire tree. She shuddered. Mr. Howard entered the room at this moment, and lifting her in his arms, he replaced her in bed, and sat down beside her. Leila’s long dark eyelashes were wet with tears; her cheeks were very pale, and she trembled violently. Mr. Howard stooped down and kissed her forehead. “You were wrong to leave your bed, my child, you are very cold--and cold also, I fear, from excessive agitation. Now, dear Leila, give me a proof this day that you are endeavouring to gain more command over your feelings, and let me see that you do not give way to what are, I trust, unnecessary fears.” “Unnecessary?” she replied, in a low voice. “Papa, do you remember Clara?” “Yes, my dear child, I do remember; but I remember also that there is _One_ whose arm is mighty to save. He can say to the angry waves, ‘Be still;’ and without his knowledge ‘not a sparrow falls to the ground.’ He took Clara to Himself, and He saved us from further trial. He willed it so--let us trust to Him entirely. He alone, who knows the end from the beginning, can make all work together for good.” Leila hastily brushed the tears from her eyes, and laid her little hand on her papa’s. Mr. Howard started, it was so very cold; but she struggled for composure, and said in a calm voice,----“Yes, papa, I will try to think of all this, and my text for to-day shall be, ‘The waves of the sea are mighty and rage horribly, but yet the Lord who dwelleth on high is mightier: for He maketh the storm to cease, so that the waves thereof are still.’ Now kiss me, papa, and please send Amy to help me to dress, and when I have been to your room to say my prayers and to read to you, I am sure I shall feel quite comforted again, and you shall see that I am getting command, papa.”