“God! Oh, God! Infinite in power and love—do You see me? Do You see me, and withhold Your help? Oh, God! God!” But soon upon her fevered spirit fell the word of the Lord like dew—“All things work together for good, to them that love the Lord.” And full of penitence for her impatience, she knelt, and humbled herself “under the mighty hand of God.” And then, comforted with love and hope, strengthened with faith and courage, she arose, and went about her work. Meeting Henny soon after, she told her to be consoled, for that she thought Jack would be let off. In the afternoon she received a pencilled note from Major Clifton, announcing that he should leave home three days sooner than he had anticipated, namely, on the third day from that date. Leaning against the projecting chimney piece, she held the note, stupidly gazing at it. But two days were left before he should depart then—she thought—and he was going, really going upon a long and perilous military service, and parting with her in deep, unmitigated anger, under the seemingly ineffaceable impression of her utter unworthiness—believing her to be guilty of—what? ay! what? for up to this moment she had not the slightest idea of his reason for condemning her. And now she blamed herself for cowardice, in having hesitated to entreat him to inform her of what fault or crime she was suspected, and to give her the opportunity of exculpating herself. And she reproached herself for that failing of the heart, and falling of the eyes, and faltering of the voice, that made her so powerless, and placed her at such a disadvantage in his presence. “Oh, yes, indeed,” she said, “I know my manner is enough to convict me; I do not wonder at nor blame him for thinking ill of me, so long as my eyes sink beneath his look. But how can I help it. It must be so while he frowns or sneers. One encouraging word or glance from him, and I could look up and speak.” And next she remembered how much he must suffer in continuing to think her unworthy, and in departing under that impression—and at this thought, all that was most generous and benevolent in her nature arose to inspire her with courage, and she resolved to go to him, and, though heart and frame should tremble to meet that dread look of stern sorrow or piercing scorn—to persevere in imploring him to tell her with what crime she stood charged. But though she had determined upon this act, it was extremely difficult to perform it. All the afternoon and evening he came and went in such hurry, and seemed so entrenched behind his own private thoughts and purposes that she feared to break in upon his reserve. Once indeed for the purpose of speaking to him upon the subject, she entered his study, and stood by the table; but he turned around, drew himself up, sat back in his chair, and looked upon her with such sarcastic arrogance, that, abashed and confounded, without opening her lips she turned and left the room.