loves you. If I love you so much, how much more does not
He? Come near me, Flora. Be patient, and I know peace will come!"

The words had burst from Flora uncontrollably. She was aware, the next
instant, that she had given way to harmful agitation, and, resuming her
quiescence, partly by her own will, partly from the soothing effect of
Margaret's words and tone, she allowed herself to be drawn close to
her sister, and hid her face in the pillow, while Margaret's hands were
folded over her, and words of blessing and prayer were whispered with a
fervency that made them broken.

Ethel, meanwhile, stood between Aubrey and Gertrude, hardly able to
believe it was not a dream, as she beheld the procession enter the
aisle, and heard the psalm that called on those doors to lift up
their heads for Him who should enter. There was an almost bewildered
feeling--could it indeed be true, as she followed the earlier part
of the service, which set apart that building as a temple for ever,
separate from all common uses. She had imagined the scene so often
that she could almost have supposed the present, one of her many
imaginations; but, by and by, the strangeness passed off, and she was
able to enter into, not merely to follow, the prayers, and to feel the
deep thanksgiving that such had been the crown of her feeble efforts.
Margaret was in her mind the whole time, woven, as it were, into
every supplication and every note of praise; and when there came the
intercession for those in sickness and suffering, flowing into the
commemoration of those departed in faith and fear, Ethel's spirit sank
for a moment at the conviction that soon Margaret, like him, whom all
must bear in mind on that day, might be included in that thanksgiving;
yet, as the service proceeded, leaving more and more of earth behind,
and the voices joined with angel and archangel, Ethel could lose the
present grief, and only retain the certainty that, come what might,
there was joy and union amid those who sung that hymn of praise. Never
had Ethel been so happy--not in the sense of the finished work--no, she
had lost all that, but in being more carried out of herself than ever
she had been before, the free spirit of praise so bearing up her heart
that the cry of glory came from her with such an exultant gladness, as
might surely be reckoned as one of those foretastes of our everlasting
life, not often vouchsafed even to the faithful, and usually sent to
prepare strength