pon what may never happen,
and fearing to leave your parent in the hand of Him who gave you to him.
Suppose you were to die to-night, I fear you could not trust him in the
hands of Him who wraps us round with old age, before taking us home to
Himself."

"Oh, yes, I could so trust him to-night, if I myself had watched him to
sleep. But a month hence, if I were to die, I should dread to meet my
parents. They would ask me, `How is our father?' and I should have to
answer, `I do not know--I have left him--I have done nothing for him of
late.' The whole time that I am here, madam, I shall be afraid to die
and meet my mother."

"We must lead you to doubt your own notions, and to trust more in God,"
said the lady, gently. "We know not what a day may bring forth; and as
you grow older, you will find how, in cases of hard and doubtful duty,
our way becomes suddenly clear, so as to make us ashamed of our late
anguish. Father Gabriel will tell you that one night he lost his way
among the marshes in the plain. The clouds hung thick and low overhead,
and there was not a ray of light. He plunged on the one hand into the
marsh; and on the other, the reeds grew higher than his head. Behind
him was a wood that he had hardly managed to struggle through; and he
knew not what might be before him. He groped about for a firm place to
stand on, and had no idea which way to move. At last, without his
having felt a breath of wind, he found that the clouds had parted to the
right, making a chink through which he saw the Cibao peaks standing up
against a starlight sky; and, to the left, there was, on the horizon, a
dim white line which he could not understand, till the crescent moon
dropped down from behind the cloudy canopy, across a bar of clear sky,
and into the sea. This made him look whether the church of Saint
Hilaire was not close by. He made out its dim mass through the
darkness, and in a few minutes stood in the porch. So, my child, is our
way (even yours, young as you are) sometimes made too dark for our
feeble eyes; and thus, from one quarter or another, is a ray permitted
to fall that we may not be lost."

"Thank you," said Euphrosyne, softly. "May I come to-morrow?"

"At any hour you shall be welcome, my dear."

"If you will appoint me something to do every morning in the garden,
madam, grandpapa might sit in the balcony, to see me, and talk to me.
That will be a reason for his getting up. That, will prevent his l