Him that
even while He slays us we can trust Him still.

This father--this broken-hearted earthly father--could.

When we sat at the supper-table--Ursula, John, and I, the children
being all in bed--no one could have told that there was any shadow over
us, more than the sadly-familiar pain of the darling of the house being
"not so strong as she used to be."

"But I think she will be, John. We shall have her quite about again,
before--"

The mother stopped, slightly smiling. It was, indeed, an especial
mercy of heaven which put that unaccountable blindness before her eyes,
and gave her other duties and other cares to intercept the thought of
Muriel. While, from morning till night, it was the incessant secret
care of her husband, myself, and good Mrs. Tod, to keep her out of her
little daughter's sight, and prevent her mind from catching the danger
of one single fear.

Thus, within a week or two, the mother lay down cheerfully upon her
couch of pain, and gave another child to the household--a little sister
to Muriel.

Muriel was the first to whom the news was told. Her father told it.
His natural joy and thankfulness seemed for the moment to efface every
other thought.

"She is come, darling! little Maud is come. I am very rich--for I have
two daughters now."

"Muriel is glad, father." But she showed her gladness in a strangely
quiet, meditative way, unlike a child--unlike even her old self.

"What are you thinking of, my pet?"

"That--though father has another daughter, I hope he will remember the
first one sometimes."

"She is jealous!" cried John, in the curious delight with which he
always detected in her any weakness, any fault, which brought her down
to the safe level of humanity. "See, Uncle Phineas, our Muriel is
actually jealous."

But Muriel only smiled.

That smile--so serene--so apart from every feeling or passion
appertaining to us who are "of the earth, earthy," smote the father to
the heart's core.

He sat down by her, and she crept up into his arms.

"What day is it, father?"

"The first of December."

"I am glad. Little Maud's birthday will be in the same month as mine."

"But you came in the snow, Muriel, and now it is warm and mild."

"There will be snow on my birthday, though. There always is. The snow
is fond of me, father. It would like me to lie down and be all covered
over, so that you could not find me anywhere."

I heard John try to echo her weak, soft laug