"Duncan, my friend, we are but travelers of a day. Our life, like that
fire, goes out in ashes. The night comes, and we sleep. _Do_ we rise
again? Does this corruption put on incorruption--this mortal put on
immortality? O, could I hear a voice from Heaven say unto me '_Yes_,' I
should be comforted!"

"Why, Philip! Have you, too, doubts? God Almighty help us, when the
faith of His ministers falters!"

"Bear with me now, Duncan; the darkness in my soul is deep and terrible
to-night; death and the grave seem the only sure certainties we have in
this world. Morning may bring me right again, if another morning remain
for me. Let us sleep--and good night!"

The friends separated--and Duncan pondered on the missionary's last
words. They seemed prophetic; and he almost expected, when he sent
Grandison to his room on the following morning, to see that servant
return with direful news. Not so. Philip appeared about ten o'clock,
declaring he had slept well, and felt much refreshed. He remained for
several days at Kennons, during which time the grave of Ellice was
opened, and a tiny coffin let down upon her own; mother and child were
re-united; and as Philip offered a prayer over the fresh-thrown earth, a
ray of stronger faith enkindled his heart. Philip talked of his own
little girl to Duncan Lisle:

"I had intended leaving her with my sister Estelle, who was my favorite.
She was much attached to Della," said Philip; "But I found Estelle's
husband does not like children; besides, she has three of her own, the
eldest but a baby, and twins younger. Leonora is well married, but
devoted to society, has no children of her own, and no idea of being
troubled with other people's. I could not leave her with my mother, even
though she had not been an invalid. My only resource was to entrust her
with Juliet, who was but recently married, and who, with her husband,
received the child delightedly. I do not feel at all satisfied with the
arrangement, but it was the best I could do. Juliet is good-hearted,
over-affectionate, and will be kind to the child; but she is rather
simple-minded, frivolous, and variable. Her husband is a kind, sensible
man, but he was raised a Roman Catholic. Juliet tells me that he is not
much of anything now; but I doubt it, for he insisted on being married
by the priest, before the ceremony at St. Mark's; and then again, the
idea of one who has been raised a Catholic ever being anything else
_but_ a Catholic.