'I will go to her,' I said, waving Miss Locke back and picking up my flowers. 'Do not look so scared: she means those knocks for me.' And I was right in my surmise. I found her lying very quietly, with the traces of tears still on her face; she addressed me quite gently. 'Do not sing any more, please; I cannot bear it; it makes my heart ache too much to-night.' 'Very well,' I returned cheerfully. 'I will just mend your fire, for it is getting low, and put these flowers in water, and then I will bid you good-night.' 'You are vexed with me for being rude,' she said, almost timidly. 'I told Susan to send you away, because I could not bear any more talk. You made me so unhappy yesterday, Miss Garston.' I was cruel enough to tell her that I was glad to hear it, and I must have looked as though I meant it. 'Oh, don't,' she said, shrinking as though I had dealt her a blow. 'I want you to unsay those words: they pierce me like thorns. Please tell me you did not mean them.' 'How can I know to what you are alluding?' I replied, in rather an unsympathetic tone; but I did not intend to be soft with her to-day: she had treated me badly and must repent her ingratitude. 'I certainly meant every word I said yesterday,' To my great surprise, she burst into tears, and repeated word for word a fragment of a sentence that I had said. 'It haunts me, Miss Garston, and frightens me somehow. I have been saying it over and over in my dreams,--that is what upset me so to-day: "if we will not lie still under His hand,"--yes, you said that, knowing I have never lain still for a moment,--"and if we will not learn the lesson He would fain teach us, it may be that fresh trials may be sent to humble us."' Pity kept me silent for a moment, but I knew that I must not shirk my work. 'I am sorry if the truth pains you, Phoebe, but it is no less the truth. How am I to look at you and think that God has finished His work?' She put up both her hands and motioned me away with almost a face of horror, but I took no notice. I arranged the flowers and tended the fire, and then offered her some cooling drink, which she did not refuse, and then I bade her good-night. 'What!' she exclaimed, 'are you going to leave me like that, and not a word to soothe me, after making me so unhappy? Think of the long night I have to go through.' 'Never mind the length of the night, if only you can hear His voice in the darkness. You wanted to send me away, Phoebe; well, and to-morrow I shall not come; I shall stay at home and rest myself. You can send me away, and little harm will happen; but take care you do not send Him away.' And I left the room. When I told Miss Locke that I was not coming the next evening she looked frightened. 'Has my poor Phoebe offended you so badly, then?' she asked tremulously.