“But not in grief,” Mary replied, with heavenly sadness; “only I am a weak creature and need to pray more than other people; if I don’t, strange thoughts are sure to crowd into my heart and I get quite frightened at myself.”
“Poor child!” returned the missionary; “poor chosen lamb, how little you know of yourself! And is all well at home—Janey?”
“She is well—oh, sir, she is going to be married very soon.” Mary uttered the words untremulously, and if the missionary noted the flutter at her heart he made no comment.
“I am glad,” he said; “I never felt that she was really safe; young Butler may return at any time, but, once married to Edward, we need have no fear.”
“She will be happy,” said Mary, “very happy; he loves her and she loves him, you do not know how much! She is not so childish now—she grows quite womanly in her ways, and works till grandma does nothing but boast of her industry. This is all very pleasant and our home is so quiet now, one can rest in it.”
“And you, Mary, what are you going to do?”
Mary looked startled—what was she to do? The thought had so seldom presented itself that she was astonished by its strangeness.
“Do?” she repeated. “Live with grandma; what else can I do?”
“But the time will come when she will no longer need your care, or feel your affection.”
“Then I shall stay with Jane—no, I think that could never be, at any rate, for a long time; but I have you; perhaps, if grandmother left me, you would not mind it if I came to live with you.”