Lena did not think Papa stern, or one likely to cause any one fear, when later that day he spoke a few loving words to his child; and as she kissed him, she felt that never again would she think him stern. Her only wonder was how she could ever have feared him, or doubted the love of either of them ceasing because she had done wrong.
As Lena lay still that evening, her hand clasped in Mama's, and her eyes fixed upon Papa, who was reading out her letters from Milly and Gertrude, Lena felt so happy and contented. There was no longer any fear in her heart, for there was nothing to be hidden, and the child's heart swelled with gratitude as she thought how good every one had been and now were to her.
When the letters were finished, Lena asked suddenly, "How is little Mary; is she better?"
A moment's silence followed, and then Mama said, "Little Mary has gone to that home where she will never have pain or suffering more, my Lena; she is with her Saviour now, dear."
"Dead, Mama—dead! and she was only twelve years old, just my age. Her poor mother"——
And her eyes filled with tears as she added, "And David, how sorry he must be, he was so fond of her!"
"Yes, dear, we must pity them, but not little Mary herself; she is happy, perfectly happy now."
"O Mama, I am so glad I did not die too, for I was not good like her, and I hadn't told you and Papa. I meant to that very night, but Miss Gifford would not let me write."
"God has been very good to us all, as He always is, Lena, and has spared my little girl to us, and given her another opportunity of living and working for Him."
"Indeed, indeed I will try."