"They may and they may not!" replied Amabel. "We cannot see them, and nothing has been told us about them, so we do not know; but we do know that we are all the time in God's presence. He is always near at hand, to protect and care for us." "That is very true, Niece Leighton—very true indeed," said Mrs. Chloe, as if struck with a new idea. "He is every where, and so He must be here. But I don't know—we seem to know so very little about Him. I can't help being afraid of Him, though I don't suppose it is right." "I used to feel just so, before I read the New Testament!" said Amabel. "But when I read such places as, 'He that hath seen Me, hath seen the Father,'—'I and my Father are one!' then I felt that I knew a great deal more about Him. If the Lord Jesus is His image, we need not be afraid of Him." "Very true, my love. I never thought of it in that way!" said Mrs. Chloe. "But tell me, don't you ever feel afraid at night, when you wake up and hear all sorts of strange noises, like sighs and moans and people walking and whispering?" "Oh yes, very often. But, Aunt Chloe, if you are afraid in your snug pretty little room with Bateson within call, and your whistle just at your head, I wonder what you would say to sleeping where Lucy and I used to do, in one corner of the great deserted dormitory, with half the house shut up and in ruins, and those great awful caverns underneath it." "Yes, I never was so very much afraid, till after I had seen the caverns and the black water!" I added. "I dream of them now at times." "How dreadful!" said Mrs. Chloe shuddering. "What did you do?" "Mother Prudentia used to tell us to put ourselves into the hands of God, and the Holy Virgin, and repeat the psalm 'Qui habitat,'—the ninety-first, you know. I used to feel so safe and easy when I came to, 'He shall cover thee with His wings.'" "My dear, will you look me out that psalm? I think I will learn it by heart!" said Mrs. Chloe. "Of course I have read it hundreds of times, but somehow I never thought it was me whom He would cover. Thank you, my dear, you have done me a great deal of good." Amabel found the psalm in Mrs. Chloe's great prayer-book, and I noticed afterwards that she kept it open by her, and used to be murmuring verses over to herself, whenever she was alone with her knitting—the only work she ever attempted nowadays. She had taken to sitting most of the time in our cheerful sunny little room, and though she was no great help to our lessons, being one of those persons who never can refrain from talking when there is any one to talk to, we were very glad to have her there, and to give up our time to her, for we both felt we should not have her very long.