difficulties, and the restless spirit would become quiet, and the
strength to fulfil her good resolutions would come back. As it was too
far for her to go to Lucy now for her daily lessons, Lucy resigned her
to Bessie's tuition, though somewhat unwillingly, for her teaching had
become a source of real pleasure to her, and she felt that in it she
was doing some definite work for her Saviour. She had not yet got into
the habit of looking upon everything she was called in duty to do as
work done for Christ, just in proportion as it was done in a spirit
of cheerful faith and dependence, "looking unto Jesus" both as the
master and the friend.

But dark days were at hand for Lucy too,--days when she would need all
the support her faith could give. Mr. Raymond's never robust
constitution had been for some time gradually failing, though Lucy,
seeing him daily, and accustomed to consider her father "not very
strong," had not observed it. Late in November, a long, cold drive in
sleet and rain to visit a dying parishioner brought on symptoms of
fever, which rapidly increased, till the doctor, who had been summoned
to attend him, looked very anxious, and pronounced his patient in a
most critical condition. Lucy had been so long accustomed to his
occasional illnesses, that she was slow to admit the idea of danger to
her father, the possibility of losing whom had scarcely ever occurred
to her mind. Therefore, though she could not help seeing her aunt's
extreme anxiety, she resolutely turned her thoughts to the happier
prospect of her father's recovery, when he would again occupy his
wonted place, and the house would be like itself again.

Even when Mr. Raymond's extreme weakness forced the others to give up
hope, Lucy still hoped and prayed, by the sick-bed and in her own
chamber, as she had never prayed before. Surely, she thought, if she
prayed humbly and earnestly, her prayer would not be denied by Him who
has said, "Ask, and ye shall receive;" and her father would be
restored to her. She did not consider that as regards earthly things
the promise must be limited, or the conditions of human life would
have to be altered. If our prayers that our dear ones should be spared
to us were always to be granted, when would they ever attain that
blessed rest in the Father's house--the haven they have been looking
for through all the cares and troubles of their mortal pilgrimage?

Mr. Raymond had often longed for the time when his earthly