"But how can I help it? What can I do? If there were any one to care—"
The whisper came in other words, equally familiar, equally unthought of—
"HE CARETH FOR YOU."
Lettice sank back on the pillow; a strange new peace at her heart. Prue had talked, and Bertha had talked, and their words had dropped on her dulled spirit, like stones against a wall. But now it seemed as if the Divine Comforter Himself had come; and with one little shower of heavenly rain, the arid desert was changed.
An indescribable sense of rest, of being loved and watched over, crept through her. Consciously and clearly she was no longer alone. With tears still undried upon her cheeks, she fell asleep, and though the sleep could hardly have lasted half-an-hour, it seemed to bridge over a chasm in her existence, to land her in a new world, inwardly as well as outwardly.
She had never slumbered more profoundly, and when she awoke, the same calm peace enfolded her. Everything looked different. "Jesus cares for me! Jesus loves me!" she murmured, clasping her hands. "I'm so glad—oh, so glad."
Then there was a bang at the door, and Keith bounced in.
"Because it's getting cold,—" reached her ears.
"I don't understand."
"What are you lying down for? That's awfully lazy. Mamsie says, if you want any tea, you'd better make haste, because it's getting cold. It's been up ever so long."