It is hard to lay away in the grave a form we have loved, on a smiling, sunny day, under the green grass; but to put it under the snows of winter is harder still. It needs faith and patience of no common sort to tear the nursling from the breast, and leave it out in the cold. But neither Mrs. Grey's nor Belle's was of the common sort, and in the midst of their tears they could look away from the grave and see the "folded lamb" in green pastures and beside still waters, never so full of life as now. Loving letters came to Belle from every member of the family, which were a great comfort to her; many precious and comforting books were sent her which she was willing to let do their mission to her soul. But the constant, sympathizing presence of Christ was her chief solace. It has been truly said that the best cure for sorrow is an increased, personal love for Him; Mrs. Grey learned this secret long ago, but Belle first learned it now. Margaret had not their consolations. Every thought of Mabel lacerated her, and her health began to suffer. "Poor child, it is her nature to take life hard," said Mrs. Grey to Belle, "and her love for Mabel was a passion." "_Everything_ is a passion with her," Belle replied. "If you had not adopted her and toned her down, and she had been left uneducated and unrestrained, she would have rushed headlong to destruction." "I do not feel sure how she will come out in the end," said Mrs. Grey. "If anything happens to me I shall want you to look after her." "Anything happen to you, mamma?" cried Belle; "do you think anything _is_ going to happen? Why, it isn't living not to have a mother." "In the nature of things you ought to outlive me, my child. And it is well to familiarize yourself to the thought." Belle's eyes filled with tears. "You know what Mabel's death has cost me," she said, "but it is nothing to what yours would." "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Grey, trying to smile away this almost reproachful tone, "I do not expect to die at present, and may live to be a trial to you all. I hope not, though. I should like to live as long as I can work for Christ; not longer, nevertheless not my will." "Nor mine!" said Belle. "I spoke in a cowardly moment, dreading any more suffering. It was most ungrateful after all God's goodness to me." Margaret now came in with a photograph of Mabel she had been coloring. "Oh, this is a great improvement!" cried Belle. "Thank you, ever so much." "What a mercy that you had it taken so recently!" said Mrs. Grey. "Yes; there has been nothing but goodness and mercy from beginning to end." Poor Margaret could not see it, and her face showed that she could not. "Things that look like unmitigated evils now will appear differently as you advance into life. You are only on the outskirts now," said Mrs. Grey, kindly. "Belle, my dear, let Margaret read your Mabel-journal." Belle rose and brought the book. It had been kept from the day of the child's birth till that of her death.