hout you?"

"It may please the dear Lord Jesus to spare you that trial, my darling
boy," she said. "I know that he will, if in his infinite wisdom he sees
it to be for the best.

"And we must just trust him, remembering those sweet Bible words, 'We
know that all things work together for good to them that love God.'
Leave it all with him, my darling, feeling perfectly sure that whatever
he orders will be for the best; that though we may not be able to see it
so now, we shall at the last."

"But, mamma, I must pray that you may be cured and live with us for
many, many years. It will not be wrong to ask him for that?"

"No, not if you ask in submission to his will, remembering that no one
of us knows what is really for our highest good. Remember his own prayer
in his agony there in the garden of Gethsemane, 'Father, if thou be
willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless, not my will, but thine,
be done.'

"He is our example and we must strive to be equally submissive to the
Father's will. Remember what the dear Master said to Peter, 'What I do
thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.'"

"Mamma, I will try to be perfectly submissive to his will, even if it is
to take you away from me; but oh, I must pray, pray, _pray_ as hard as I
can that it may please him to spare your dear life and let me keep my
mother at least till I am grown to be a man. It won't be wrong, mamma?"

"No, my darling boy, I think not--if with it all you can truly, from
your heart, say, 'thy will, not mine, be done.'"

When Captain Raymond followed his wife and little ones to Ion, he found
there a distressed household, anxious and sorely troubled over the
suffering and danger of the dearly beloved mother and mistress. Violet
met him on the veranda, her cheeks pale and showing traces of tears, her
eyes full of them.

"My darling!" he exclaimed in surprise and alarm, "what is the matter?"

He clasped her in his arms as he spoke, and dropping her head upon his
shoulder, she sobbed out the story of her mother's suffering and the
trial that awaited her on the morrow.

His grief and concern were scarcely less than her own, but he tried to
speak words of comfort to both her and the others to whom the loved
invalid was so inexpressibly dear. To the beloved invalid also when,
like the rest, he was accorded a short interview.

Yet he found to his admiring surprise that she seemed in small need of
such service--so calm, so peaceful, so e