Rather praise God for her therefore, dearest Isa, that she is gone above the cloud, gone where she can exercise active virtues and charities, instead of being the mild patient object of the charities and virtues of her friends.

Perhaps she ministers to _you_ now instead of being ministered to by you, while the remembrance of her life on earth is tenderly united to you ever, a proof before men and angels that _your_ life (whatever you may please to say of yourself) has not been useless, nor barren of good and tender deeds....
In this letter and the last (such depressed letters!) you compare your own fate with that of some others with an injustice which God measures, and which I too have knowledge of.

Isa, you speak you know not what.

Be sure of one thing, however, that God has not been niggardly towards you, and that He never made a creature for which He did not make the work suited to its hand.

He never made a creature necessarily useless, nor gave a life which it was not sin on the creature's part to hold unthankfully and throw back as a poor gift.