after a long silence,--"do you think
mistakes, I mean life-mistakes, can ever be mended in this world?"

"You must define what you mean by mistakes," he said without looking at
her. "There are no _mistakes_, love, but those which we make by our own
fault."

"O but yes there are, Basil!"

"Not what _I_ mean by mistakes."

"Then what do you call them? When people's lives are all spoiled by
something they have had nothing to do with--by death, or sickness, or
accident, or misfortune."

"I call it," said Basil slowly, and still without looking at her,--"I
call it, when it touches me or you, or other of the Lord's
children,--God's good hand."

"O no, Basil! people's wickedness cannot be his hand."

"People's wickedness is their own. And other evil I believe is wrought
by the prince of this world. But God will use people's wickedness, and
even Satan's mischief, to his children's best good; and so it becomes,
in so far, his blessed hand. Don't you know he has promised, 'There
shall no evil happen to the just'? And that 'all things shall work
together for good to them that love God?' His promise does not fail, my
child."

"But, Basil,--loads of things do happen to them which _cannot_ work for
their good."

"Then what becomes of the Lord's promise?"

"He cannot have made it, I think."

"He has made it, and you and I believe it."

"But, Basil, it is impossible. I do not see how some things can ever
turn to people's good."

"If any of the Lord's children were in doubt upon that point, I should
recommend him to ask the Lord to enlighten him. For the heavens may
fall, Diana, but 'the word of our God shall stand for ever.'"

Diana felt her lips quivering, and drew back into the shadow to hide
them.

"But there can be no kindness in some of these things that I am
thinking about," she said as soon as she could control her voice; and
it sounded harsh even then.

"There is nothing but kindness. When I would not give you strong coffee
a while ago, in your fever, do you think I was influenced by cruel
motives?"

"I could never believe anything but good of you, Basil."

"Thank you. Do you mean, that of Christ you _could?_"

"No--" said Diana, hesitating; "but I thought, perhaps, he might not
care."

"He had need to be long-suffering!" said Basil; "for we do try his
patience, the best of us. 'He has borne our griefs and carried our
sorrows,' Diana; down into humiliation and death; that he might so earn
the right