the second time. She must be of better courage, she
said to herself. Struggling in the Slough of Despond, she had come upon
one worse mired than she, for whose sake she must search yet more
vigorously after the hidden stepping-stones--the peaks whose bases are
the center of the world.

"God help me!" she said ever and anon as she went, and every time she
said it, she quickened her pace and ran.

It was just breakfast-time when she reached the house. Her father was
coming down the stair.

"Would you mind, father," she said as they sat, "if I were to make a
room at the Old House a little comfortable?"

"I mind nothing you please to do, Dorothy," he answered. "But you must
not become a recluse. In your search for God, you must not forsake your
neighbor."

"If only I could find my neighbor!" she returned, with a rather sad
smile. "I shall never be able even to look for him, I think, till I have
found One nearer first."

"You have surely found your neighbor when you have found his wounds, and
your hand is on the oil-flask," said her father, who knew her
indefatigable in her ministrations.

"I don't feel it so," she answered. "When I am doing things for people,
my arms seem to be miles long."

As soon as her father left the table, she got her basket again, filled
it from the larder and store-room, laid a book or two on the top, and
telling Lisbeth she was going to the Old House for the rest of the day,
set out on her third journey thither. To her delight she found Juliet
fast asleep. She sat down, rather tired, and began to reflect. Her great
fear was that Juliet would fall ill, and then what was to be done? How
was she to take the responsibility of nursing her? But she remembered
how the Lord had said she was to take no thought for the morrow; and
therewith she began to understand the word. She saw that one can not
_do_ any thing in to-morrow, and that all care which can not be put into
the work of to-day, is taken out of it. One thing seemed clear--that, so
long as it was Juliet's desire to remain concealed from her husband, she
had no right to act against that desire. Whether Juliet was right or
wrong, a sense of security was for the present absolutely necessary to
quiet her mind. It seemed therefore, the first thing she had to do was
to make that concealed room habitable for her. It was dreadful to think
of her being there alone at night, but her trouble was too great to
leave much room for fear--and anyhow ther