, would
not be chased away by any potations his landlady recommended or by the
stronger draughts to which Mr. Copley's habits bade him recur; and the
third day, with something of the same sort of dumb instinct which makes
a wounded or sick animal draw back to cover, he threw himself into the
post coach and went down to Brierley. Naturally, he took advantage of
stopping places by the way to get something to warm him; and so reached
home at last in an altogether muddled and disordered state of mind and
body.

Neither Mrs. Copley nor Dolly would go to bed that night. Not that
there was much to do, but there was much to fear; and they clung in
their fear to each other's company. Mrs. Copley dozed in an easy-chair
part of the time; and Dolly sat at the open window with her head on the
sill and lost herself there in slumber that was hardly refreshing. The
night saw no change; and the morning was welcome, as the morning is in
times of sickness, because it brought stir and the necessity of work to
be done.

It was still early when Dolly, after refreshing herself with water and
changing her dress, went downstairs. She opened the hall door, and
stood still a moment. The summer morning met her outside, fresh with
dew, heavy with the scent of roses, musical with the song of birds;
dim, sweet, full of life, breathing loveliness, folding its loveliness
in mystery. As yet, things could be seen but confusedly; the dark bank
of Brierley Park with its giant trees rose up against the sky, there
was no gleam on the little river, the outlines of nearer trees and
bushes were merged and indistinct; but what a hum and stir and warble
and chitter of happy creatures! how many creatures to be happy! and
what a warm breath of incense told of the blessings of the summer day
in store for them! For them, and not for Dolly? It smote her hard, the
question and the answer. It was for her too; it ought to be for her;
the Lord's will was that all His creatures should be happy; and some of
his creatures would not! Some refused the rich invitation, and would
neither take themselves nor let others take the bountiful, tender,
blessed gifts of God. It came to Dolly with an unspeakable sore pain.
Yes, the Lord's will was peace and joy and plenty for them all; fulness
of gracious supply; the singing of delighted hearts, loving and
praising Him. And men made their own choice to have something else, and
brought bitterness into what was meant to be only sweet. Te