"'I, even I, am he that comforteth you.'" Calista had, of course, much to learn of the force of temptation, of inbred sin, and of the corruption of her own heart, but of these things she did not think, nor would there have been any wisdom, but quite the contrary, in telling her of them. The traveller who sets out on a long journey knows very well that he will meet many discomforts, trials, and dangers; but he would be a foolish man who should lose the freshness of the morning, and the singing of the birds, and the beauty of flowers and scenery, in pondering over these coming dangers and trials. Calista went up to Miss Druett's room, and softly opened the door. "Come in, child, I am not asleep," said Miss Druett. "Come and tell me how you liked the meeting." "Oh, so much, Miss Druett. How I wish you had been there." "Then you had a fine sermon?" "I don't know whether it was fine or not," answered Calista. "I never thought. I knew it was just what I wanted." Miss Druett drew Calista nearer to her, and fixed her piercing eyes on her face. Then she sighed deeply. "I see," said she. "You have found him of whom Moses and the Prophets did write." "You are not sorry, are you, Miss Druett?" "No, child! Heaven forbid! I found him once, or so I thought; but I lost him again." "Oh, Miss Druett! Surely he did not forsake you!" "No: I forsook him. I quarrelled with him because he would not give me the sweets I cried for, and I have never seen him since. I shall never find him again, I fear." "Perhaps he will find you," said Calista softly. "You know that was what he came for—to seek and to save that which was lost." Miss Druett had always rather suffered than returned Calista's caresses, but now she drew the girl down to her, and held her in a long, close embrace. "Get your Bible and read the same chapter the minister read." Calista obeyed, and Miss Druett listened with evident pleasure and interest. "To think that any man with a heart could turn that into ridicule, whether he believed it or not!" said she when the chapter was finished. "Now tell me what hymns they sang. Do you know any of them?" "Yes, ma'am. I know the whole of—" "'Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,—' "because we sing it sometimes in church." "Sing it." Calista sang the tender, simple old hymn, worth more than whole piles of sentimental stuff which go under the name of hymns in some quarters in these days. Miss Druett listened, and more than one tear stole out from under her closed eyelids. Miss Priscilla listened as she nodded over her volume of Rousseau, in the parlors below, and made up her mind that she was not going to have that sort of thing going on in the house to please Druey nor any one else. "Thank you, child. Your voice is like your father's and your grandmother's. There, get me some fresh water, and leave me alone. I dare say I shall have a good night." CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. OLD JAEL.