For some time she often referred to her coming departure, and confessed that she "feared death; not so much what might be on the other side, as the dark way itself,--the struggle, the torture, the fainting; but by degrees her allusions to it became rarer, and at length ceased almost entirely. Once I said to her,-- "Are you afraid of death still, Eleanor?" "No--not much," she replied, after a brief pause. "He may do with me whatever He likes." Knowing so well what Marion could do to comfort and support, and therefore desirous of bringing them together, I took her one day with me. But certain that the thought of seeing a stranger would render my poor Eleanor uneasy, and that what discomposure a sudden introduction might cause would speedily vanish in Marion's presence, I did not tell her what I was going to do. Nor in this did I mistake. Before we left, it was plain that Marion had a far more soothing influence upon her than I had myself. She looked eagerly for her next visit, and my mind was now more at peace concerning her. One evening, after listening to some stories from Marion about her friends, Mrs. Cromwell said,-- "Ah, Miss Clare! to think I might have done something for _Him_ by doing it for _them!_ Alas! I have led a useless life, and am dying out of this world without having borne any fruit! Ah, me, me!" "You are doing a good deal for him now," said Marion, "and hard work too!" she added; "harder far than mine." "I am only dying," she returned--so sadly! "You are enduring chastisement," said Marion. "The Lord gives one one thing to do, and another another. We have no right to wish for other work than he gives us. It is rebellious and unchildlike, whatever it may seem. Neither have we any right to wish to be better in _our_ way: we must wish to be better in _his_." "But I _should_ like to do something for _him_; bearing is only for myself. Surely I may wish that?" "No: you may not. Bearing is not only for yourself. You are quite wrong in thinking you do nothing for him in enduring," returned Marion, with that abrupt decision of hers which seemed to some like rudeness. "What is the will of God? Is it not your sanctification? And why did he make the Captain of our salvation perfect through suffering? Was it not that he might in like manner bring many sons into glory? Then, if you are enduring, you are working with God,--for the perfection through suffering of one more: you are working for God in yourself, that the will of God may be done in you; that he may have his very own way with you. It is the only work he requires of you now: do it not only willingly, then, but contentedly. To make people good is all his labor: be good, and you are a fellow-worker with God in the highest region of labor. He does not want you for other people--_yet_." At the emphasis Marion laid on the last word, Mrs. Cromwell glanced sharply up. A light broke over her face: she had understood, and with a smile was silent.