"I can only say that we must leave the future in wiser Hands," he at length uttered. "Impossible to look forward: and we are but children—not knowing what is best. Not able even to guess. Lettice, don't you think you want help for yourself—help for the carrying of this trouble? It comes heavily on you, poor child!" He had no response. "Your sister could not see me to-day; and she may not be equal to another interview before you go . . . But there is one thing that we can both do for her: we can pray . . . I wonder if you often pray! . . . She is in God's hands; and He is very near to us. Always near. We cannot speak without His hearing. He sees all your sorrow now, and He is grieved for you. Would it not be a comfort to ask His help? Shall we do so now?" Then, as they stood, a few petitions were breathed forth reverently: the clergyman bending his head low, while Lettice never stirred. It was such prayer as seemed to take the absent one, and to lay her in Divine protecting Arms. "Teach her the road to Thee; and so bring her safely to Thy Home of Peace; and comfort this poor child of Thine, for Christ's sake," were the closing words. Lettice was conscious of a soothed sensation; even while the knowledge that he so fully accepted the hopeless condition of Cecilia's health brought sharper heart-ache. She was on the verge of a break-down, and might no longer trust her own voice; but this he could not guess, and her immobility perplexed him. "I shall pray often for her and for you. That at least is in my power. And remember, if at any time you are in difficulties, and will write to me, I will do all that I can . . . Meanwhile, try not to look forward. Take each day as it comes, looking up for strength; and you will be carried through. Even now, if God wills, He is able to make your sister well again. And if—" Lettice put out her hand. "Good-bye," she said. "Please let me go." The next word was more than she could endure. The girl's hasty utterance drowned his "If not—," which was too far advanced to receive a check. He understood then, and paused compassionately. "Please let me go. And—thank you so much!" "Well, good-bye. But you are going to be brave, I am sure, for your sister's sake. Some day you will write, and tell me all about yourselves. Will you not? And I shall often see Felix." Lettice gave him one glance of gratitude, and rushed away. Mr. Kelly turned back into his study, with eyes not perfectly dry. With the day fixed for the journey came a heavy snowstorm, but Cecilia would not hear of delay. Everything was settled: boxes were packed; Dr. Bryant would expect their arrival. A restless desire to have the parting over, and to be off, possessed her. Moreover, barely enough money remained, to pay part of the landlady's claims, to meet the expenses of the journey, and to supply the present needs of Felix.