f many weeks past; the traces of that were plain
enough; yet it was delicately fair all the same, and perhaps more than
ever, with the heightened spirituality of the expression. The writing
on her features, of love and purity, habitual self-devotion and
self-forgetfulness, patience and sweetness, was so plain and so
unconscious, that it made her a very rare subject of contemplation,
and, as her companion thought, extremely lovely. Her attitude spoke the
same unconsciousness; her dress was of the simplest description; her
brown hair was tossed into disorder; but dress and hair and attitude
alike were deliciously graceful, with that mingling of characteristics
of child and woman which was peculiar to Dolly. Lieutenant Shubrick was
familiar with a very diverse type of womanly charms in the shape of his
long-betrothed Miss Thayer. The comparison, or contrast, might be
interesting; at any rate, any one who had eyes to read this type before
him needed no contrast to make it delightful; and probably Mr. Shubrick
had such eyes. He was quite silent, leaving Dolly to choose her time
and her words at her own pleasure.

"I know you will," she said slowly, taking up his last words;--"you
have already; but I am a bad learner. You know what you said, Mr.
Shubrick, the day you came, that evening when we were at supper,--about
trusting, and not taking care?"

"Yes."

Dolly did not look at him, and went on. "I do not find that I can do
it."

"Do what?"

"Lay down care. Quite lay it down."

"It is not easy," Mr. Shubrick admitted.

"Is it possible, always? I find I can trust pretty well when I can see
at least a possible way out of difficulties; but when the way seems all
shut up, and no opening anywhere,--then--I do not quite lay down care.
How can I?"

"There is only one thing that can make it possible."

"I know--you told me; but how then can I get that? I must be very far
from the knowledge of Christ--if _that_ is what is wanting."

Dolly's eyes filled with tears.

"No," said Mr. Shubrick gently, "but perhaps it does follow, that you
have not enough of that knowledge."

"Of course. And how shall I get it? I can trust when I see some light,
but when I can see none, I am afraid."

"If I promised to take you home, I mean, to America, by ways known to
me but unknown to you, could you trust me and take the steps I bade
you."

I am not justifying Mr. Shubrick. This was a kind of tentative speech
for his own satisfaction;