"I'm tryin' my best," he sighed, "but the Lord only knows how hard it is; 'specially when folks comes and tells you it's a judgment sent onto you for your sins." "And who dares to tell you that?" she cried, flushing with indignation, "who could be so heartlessly cruel?" "Well, Damaris was in t'other day. She means well enough, I guess;--she fetched something she'd cooked up for me--but she don't seem to understand a feller critter's feelin's. She give me a long lecture; said I'd been dreadful proud o' my strength and what a neat job I could make o' shoein' a horse and the like, and so that the Lord took away my hand to punish me and fetch me down. Do you think 'twas that way, Mis' Keith? I was thinkin' 'twas my own carelessness and not to be blamed on Him at all." "It strikes me that you are very nearly right there," she replied, half smiling at the earnest simplicity with which he spoke. "He is very merciful and gracious, full of tender pity and compassion for the creatures He has made; especially those who are peculiarly His own because they have accepted of the salvation offered through Christ Jesus; yet He does not always see fit to save them from the consequences, as regards this life, of their own follies and sins." "Carelessness is a sin," he said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't use to think so, but it's plain enough to me now. And do you think, Mis' Keith, He feels kind o' sorry for me even though 'twas my own fault?" "I am sure of it; and that He will give you strength to bear your trouble if you will ask Him; to bear it bravely and not let it spoil your life by robbing you of cheerfulness and hope, and the usefulness you may attain to by a determined, manly struggle with your difficulties. "There is a pleasure in overcoming difficulties," she added with a bright, winning smile, that was like a ray of sunlight to his saddened heart, "a pleasure that the slothful know nothing of." "I'll try it!" he said with determination. "God helping me, I will. Bless you, Mis' Keith, fur them words. I'll not forget 'em." [Illustration] [Illustration] Chapter Twenty-Third. "The sad vicissitudes of things." --STERNE. "MY poor, dear friend, would that I could comfort you!" Mrs. Keith said in tones of deep heartfelt sympathy, folding her arms about Mrs. Chetwood and weeping with her; "but only Jesus can do that in such sorrow as yours." "And He does, else I should die; for oh my arms are so empty, my heart and home so desolate!" sobbed the bereaved mother. "I know it, I know it by sad experience; for I too, have wept over the grave of a darling little one." "You?" Mrs. Chetwood said with a look of surprise; "you have so many." "Yes; but then I had not all I have now. Eva was between Rupert and Zillah and would be thirteen now. She was five when God took her to himself." "Ah, you do know how to feel for me!"