“I cannot imagine what it possibly can be,” said Alicia.
“Our small worries, in this life of probation, my child, may be as effectual as great troubles in disciplining the mind, and keeping the soul from resting too much on things of earth. Have you yourself learned nothing from yesterday’s disappointment?”
Alicia did not answer the question directly, but, after a pause, said a little bitterly,—
“Was it wrong in me to wish to make my husband’s home look pretty?”
“No, my daughter,” said the missionary very gently; “your object was not in itself wrong, but it was, perhaps, not pursued in quite a right way.”
“I do not understand,” said Alicia.
“I will try to explain myself better. Was my daughter not aware that she was risking the loss of her health by working for many hours in a place exceedingly damp?”
“One cannot be always thinking about health,” said Alicia, with the slightest touch of impatience in her tone.
“Do you not think that our mortal frames belong to the Lord as well as our intellectual powers? Have we a right to injure the instrument given us to be employed in this work?”
“Oh, dear Mr. Hartley, I think that you are hardly the one to give reproof on this subject!” cried Alicia, looking at the wasted form beside her.