My heart's most broke into two." Then, controlling herself, she dismissed the servants who stood around, weeping, and led Marie to her room.
"Come, honey, lie down an' lem'me git yer a cup ob tea." "Oh, no; I don't want anything," said Marie, wringing her hands in bitter agony.
"Oh, honey," said Mam Liza, "yer musn't gib up.

Yer knows whar to put yer trus'.

Yer can't lean on de arm of flesh in dis tryin' time." Kneeling by the side of her mistress she breathed out a prayer full of tenderness, hope, and trust.
Marie grew calmer.

It seemed as if that earnest, trustful prayer had breathed into her soul a feeling of resignation.
Gracie stood wonderingly by, vainly trying to comprehend the great sorrow which was overwhelming the life of her mother.
After the first great burst of sorrow was over, Marie sat down to her desk and wrote a letter to Iola, informing her of her father's death.

By the time she had finished it she grew dizzy and faint, and fell into a swoon.