"Moses, I have suffered,--oh, very, very much. It was many months ago when I first thought that I must give everything up,--when I thought that we must part; but Christ helped me; he showed me his wonderful love,--the love that surrounds us all our life, that follows us in all our wanderings, and sustains us in all our weaknesses,--and then I felt that whatever He wills for us is in love; oh, believe it,--believe it for my sake, for your own." "Oh, I cannot, I cannot," said Moses; but as he looked at the bright, pale face, and felt how the tempest of his feelings shook the frail form, he checked himself. "I do wrong to agitate you so, Mara. I will try to be calm." "And to pray?" she said, beseechingly. He shut his lips in gloomy silence. "Promise me," she said. "I have prayed ever since I got your first letter, and I see it does no good," he answered. "Our prayers cannot alter fate." "Fate! there is no fate," she answered; "there is a strong and loving Father who guides the way, though we know it not. We cannot resist His will; but it is all love,--pure, pure love." At this moment Sally came softly into the room. A gentle air of womanly authority seemed to express itself in that once gay and giddy face, at which Moses, in the midst of his misery, marveled. "You must not stay any longer now," she said; "it would be too much for her strength; this is enough for this morning." Moses turned away, and silently left the room, and Sally said to Mara,-- "You must lie down now, and rest." "Sally," said Mara, "promise me one thing." "Well, Mara; of course I will." "Promise to love him and care for him when I am gone; he will be so lonely." "I will do all I can, Mara," said Sally, soothingly; "so now you must take a little wine and lie down. You know what you have so often said, that all will yet be well with him." "Oh, I know it, I am sure," said Mara, "but oh, his sorrow shook my very heart." "You must not talk another word about it," said Sally, peremptorily, "Do you know Aunt Roxy is coming to see you? I see her out of the window this very moment." And Sally assisted to lay her friend on the bed, and then, administering a stimulant, she drew down the curtains, and, sitting beside her, began repeating, in a soft monotonous tone, the words of a favorite hymn:-- "The Lord my shepherd is, I shall be well supplied; Since He is mine, and I am His, What can I want beside?" Before she had finished, Mara was asleep. CHAPTER XLI CONSOLATION