“Dear lady, do not say so sadly that ‘all is lost—forever lost.’ Dear lady, _nothing is ever lost_. It is impossible. The Lord, in His Divine Wisdom, may withdraw His gifts, but they are not lost—they have gone into His keeping.” “I do not comprehend you! My poor good looks, such as they were, are surely gone forever. Nothing can restore them! And oh, Catherine! you do not know—you cannot understand all the blessings, the hope, and the joy of my life fled forever! You are a child—you do not understand it!” “Perhaps I do not, lady, and perhaps I _do_! Seek all that you have lost in God! He has withdrawn His gifts, your treasures, that He may draw you to Himself! They are safe in His treasure house. If you have lost the beauty of the fair roseate complexion, He can endow you with a higher beauty, emanating from the soul. If you have lost human love, He can satisfy your soul with the richness and fullness of Divine love that never faileth! And for your broken earthly hopes, He can give you the Heavenly hope that never dieth.” “Oh! but it is the lost earthly hope, personal beauty and human love, that were so dear to me! So dear to me!” exclaimed the poor girl, bursting into a passion of tears. “And He can restore even those! ‘But seek ye _first_ the Kingdom of Heaven, and all these things shall be added to you.’” “Ah, child! _Nothing_ but a miracle could give me back dead happiness. And the days of miracles are over!” “No! no! There is nothing in the Scripture to warrant that saying. The days of miracles are _not_ passed. Until the days of human faith and Divine Omnipotence are past—the days of miracles are not passed. Anything that _seems_ to me right that I should have, I will pray God—that if it _be_ right, He will give it me—though it should appear to my ignorance utterly impossible!” Then Catherine abruptly stopped, fearing that she had said too much. And she silently prayed for a faith that should be as far removed from presumption, as from despair. Carolyn convalesced very slowly. It was weeks before she left her bed. And then many more weeks before she left her room. It was a glorious day in Autumn, when she first walked out upon the lawn, supported between Catherine and her father. And as soon as she set foot upon the green sward, some cattle that were browsing there—by some caprice to which cattle are subject—started off as if seized by sudden panic, and ran huddling together confusedly, and precipitating themselves towards the outer gate. And so weak were the poor invalid’s nerves, and so morbid her mind, that she burst into tears, and declared that the very brutes fled from before her face, as from one less human than themselves! Nor could any argument of Mr. Clifton’s or of Catherine’s, disabuse her mind of this absurd idea. She begged Catherine to take her back to her chamber. And for many weeks no entreaties could induce her to leave it.