“Yes; the best, the kindest gentleman as ever lived—barring Mr. Eardley,” said Lottie, warmly. “He was al’ays teaching the children good, and looking arter the poor.”
“Lionel Madden,” murmured Isa, dreamily; it was the first time for years that that name had passed her lips.
“Oh no, not he!” exclaimed Lottie, in a tone more emphatic than her hearer liked, for it conveyed more distinctly than words that Lionel was one of the last persons likely to play the philanthropist in the manner described. “It was not he, but his brother. Mr. Lionel! he never gave to nobody, nor did nothing for nobody as ever I heard of; only,” added the girl, with a little laugh, “he switched my brother over the head with his riding-whip once, to make him stand out of his way.”
Isa did not care to keep up the conversation; she took up an elegantly-bound book which lay on her toilette-table, to convey a hint of silence to her little maid-servant. The volume was a collection of sacred poetry, and the lady’s eyes rested long and thoughtfully upon the well-known verse on which their gaze first fell as she opened the book. It appeared like a comment on what she had heard that evening on the subject of Disappointment.
“Good when He gives, supremely good,
Nor less when He denies;
E’en trials from His sovereign hand
Are blessings in disguise.”
So, whether she acknowledged the fact or not, had it been in God’s dealings with Isa Gritton.
