"I can't leave that child alone to sink or swim. It wouldn't be Christian. I don't know when I have seen a face that appeals to one more. Miss Anderson, I am afraid, is in a bad way. They seem given over into my charge. I shall have to go on to Bristol, or else take them home with me . . . Which is best, I wonder? . . . She isn't fit for the journey. Well, I shall see presently."
They drew near in time to Reading. Nurse Valentine knew this, from her acquaintance with the country; and Lettice seemed to guess it, intuitively.
"Must you leave us now? What shall I do if Sissie gets worse?"
Nurse Valentine moved away to bend over Cecilia. A few low words passed between them; and she returned to Lettice.
"No, my dear, I am not going to forsake you. Your sister cannot travel so far as Bristol to-day. I shall take you both to my home."
"Home with you?" Lettice's whole face changed, pallor vanished, and her eyes shone with delight! "Oh, how good, how good you are: I can never, never thank you."
"Hush, don't let Miss Anderson hear; it is the only plan; but I have not told her yet. I wish we did not live so far out of Reading—nearly two miles—but it cannot be helped. I shall leave word with our doctor in passing, and a telegram must be sent to your uncle."
"I can't think what makes you so kind to us."
"Cannot you?" The train was slackening speed; but Nurse Valentine lingered a moment. "I have a dear Master, Lettice, and I think He is giving me this to do. My work is only to obey. The trouble! Oh, that is nothing. People cannot do anything worth doing without trouble; and always to be trying to save oneself is so contemptible. Trouble was the last thing our Lord ever thought about, when He was on earth; and it ought to be our last thought also."
Lettice had the look of one gaining a glimpse into a fresh world.