Leila stopped her. “No, Matilda, no; I am not good. I was not crying now because I was sorry about the island, but because I was angry at you for speaking of it in that way,--and now let me tell you all that is in my heart. I am happy here, quite, quite happy; I like living in the world exceedingly, I think the world is delightful, and the trials that papa spoke about I think are not coming to me, at least, not the great ones; for you know it is a little trial when you are angry with me, and I should bear it better, I know; but it is about the island I wished to speak,--I do not wish to go back to it to live. No, I could not leave--” she fixed her eyes fondly on Selina,--“nor you either, Matilda,” she added; “I could not leave you, I do love you very much, though sometimes you make me angry; but I love the island very much also. God placed me there when he snatched me from the dashing waves. It was my home, my happy home; I had my papa all to myself then; he used to call me his little friend, and he was such a friend to me, always keeping me right. You know I was alone there with my papa, and with God; and it was so much easier to be good there. I thought more of God in the island, for every thing seemed so full of his love, and all so beautiful. The island was God’s garden, the flowers always springing, so bright and beautiful, the trees so green, and nobody to take care of them but God; the birds always singing to Him, the fountain making that sweet sound, and the everlasting hills.--Oh! Matilda, it was comforting to live amongst God’s works, every thing to make me love Him, and nothing to make me forget; here I am happy, too happy sometimes, for it is a kind of happiness which makes me forget, and then afterwards comes the sorrow.” “And what do you do then?” Matilda anxiously inquired. “I often try to put it off, and I dash about, and try to be merry; but I am not merry; I get more sorrowful; then I remember that it is conscience that is speaking to me, and that papa says _conscience_ is the voice of God, and if I do not listen, _He_ will turn away from me; then I get frightened as well as sorrowful, and I go away by myself, sometimes into my room, sometimes into the garden, and there I think”---- She hesitated, then continued,--“I think of Jesus Christ, and of all he did for us, and how he loved little children, and took them in his arms, and blessed them: and I pray to Him in my heart to love me and to bless me also. Do you remember how he raised the little daughter of twelve years old from the dead? I always think how good she must have been after that, and how she must have loved Jesus Christ, and yet it should be the same with us; He keeps us alive every moment, and preserves us from every danger, and I forget Him often, though twice he has saved my life, in the stormy sea, you know, and from the frightful----” She stopped and shuddered. “Don’t, don’t think of it,” Matilda exclaimed; “don’t work yourself up in that way, Leila.”