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.
'I am not offended at all,' I replied; 'but Phoebe has need to learn all sorts of painful lessons.