"I am afraid I have given you too much pain already. It is over now. Let it be over. Go home; and may God give you grace at the eleventh hour, and bring you and yours together again at last!" she said fervently, and the tears starting in her eyes. "I have no home but one; and to that I shall shortly go. But let me not depart tormented with a yearning desire to hear all. Tell me; I ask it of you as a favor. What was her state of mind as regarded her mother--her father--and her lover?" "God gave her grace to find him at last. The darkness and the doubts that had distressed her, gradually disappeared. That grace took possession of her heart which the world can neither give nor understand; and all was hope and tranquillity at the last hour. "As she grew worse, her spirit became more and more composed. She told me so one day. Then she asked me whether I thought she could recover. "I was silent. "She turned pale. Her lips moved as she said, 'Do I understand your silence rightly?' "'I am afraid you do.' "She was silent herself for a short time; then she said, "'And so young!' "'It is not for us to know the times and seasons which the Father hath kept in his own power,' said I. "'But must I--must I die? I am not ashamed to own it,--I did so wish to live. Did you never hear that I had a father living?' she asked in so low a voice, that it was almost a whisper. "'Yes,' I answered. "'Then, you have heard his most unhappy history?' "'Most of it, I believe, I have.' "'He seems to you, I fear, a very--very erring man.' "I was silent. "'There is good in him still,' she cried; 'believe it or not who may, there is good in him still.' "And now her tears began to flow fast, as she went on, "'The will of God be done! The will of God be done! But if it had been His pleasure, I hoped to have lived! to have had that father home; to have joined our two desolate hearts together; to have brought him to the knowledge of One whose yoke is easy, and whose burden is light. O, was that wish wrong, that it was not granted! O, my father! who shall seek you out now!' "'Remember,' I said, gently, 'we are in the hands of One, wiser and more merciful than ourselves. He would spare, surely, where we would spare, if it were good it should be so. If means would avail, He would provide the means. His work will not stand still because the instruments (as we regard things) seem taken away. Your death, dear girl, may do more for your father's soul than your life could ever have done.'" And now, he bowed his head--humbly--and he covered his face with his hands, and the tears ran through his fingers. "Thus," the lady went on, "I comforted her, as I could; and she died: with her last breath commending her father to the mercy of God.