"Does 'everybody' know God well enough?" she asked with a curious keen smile. "Even on earth one must know a person before one can repose trust in him; and for the absolute repose of perfect trust, very full knowledge of his character is needful. Not quite everybody knows God so well as that!" "No, indeed!" Colin spoke in a conscience-stricken voice. "And yet—one may. It is His wish for us all. And when one does know Him, even a little, all is altered by it. Without any boasting, but just as a matter of common reasonableness, I am absolutely sure that He will take care of us. Absolutely sure! That He should fail us in our need is, I know, a thing impossible. Then what nonsense it would be to fret and worry. Why should we feel anxious, any more than your Flo does? She knows you will provide for her, to the extent of your power—knows it with a perfectly undoubting trust in your love. Your powers are limited, and you might fail in providing for her, not through lack of love, but through poverty of means. "My Father's powers are without limit; and His love is boundless. Would it not be the height of absurdity for us to keep worrying about the future, when we 'know' that He will supply all our needs? All our real needs. We may have to do without a good many things that we are used to, but what then? It may be something of a trial. Just a little of life's discipline, and no more! Don't you see?"—with a smile which had become positively radiant. It had a quiet reflection in her husband's face. Colin listened, like one dumbfoundered. Another manner of trust, this, from any exercised by himself! * * * * * Was Euphrasia "not at all an interesting invalid?" Howard Johnston, recalling his mother's words, began to doubt their truth—not so much with respect to himself, as with respect to his cousin, the doctor. Howard still held that Euphrasia was a "sensible" girl, and he liked her for being sensible. That was all. He felt nothing more than a general approval, a general wish to be polite and kind to an unfortunate guest. But apparently that was by no means all, so far as Robert Wells was concerned. So much the better, thought Howard. Everybody had long said that Mr. Wells ought to marry; and he had shown himself reprehensibly slow in following this wise advice. His position as a medical man was good, and it promised to be better, and his patients liked him: but year after year he remained wifeless. Possibly he had once wanted a wife whom he could not get, and the failure might have left him indisposed to try again.