“I never saw him in his own family,” said Mr. Wardour thoughtfully; “but this I know, Kate, that your father looked up to him, young as he then was, more than to anyone; that he was the only person among them all who ever concerned himself about you or your mother; and that on the two occasions when I saw him, I thought him very like your father.”
“I had rather he was like you, Papa,” sighed Kate. “Oh, if I was but your child!” she added, led on by a little involuntary pressure of his encircling arm.
“Don’t let us talk of what is not, but of what is,” said Mr. Wardour; “let us try to look on things in their right light. It has been the will of Heaven to call you, my little girl, to a station where you will, if you live, have many people’s welfare depending on you, and your example will be of weight with many. You must go through training for it, and strict training may be the best for you. Indeed, it must be the best, or it would not have been permitted to befall you.”
“But it does not make me good, it makes me naughty.”
“No, Kate; nothing, nobody can make you naughty; nothing is strong enough to do that.”
Kate knew what he meant, and hung her head.
“My dear, I do believe that you feel forlorn and dreary, and miss the affection you have had among us; but have you ever thought of the Friend who is closest of all to us, and who is especially kind to a fatherless child?”
“I can’t—I can’t feel it—Papa, I can’t. And then, why was it made so that I must go away from you and all?”
“You will see some day, though you cannot see now, my dear. If you use it rightly, you will feel the benefit. Meantime, you must take it on trust, just as you do my love for you, though I am going to carry you back.”
“Yes; but I can feel you loving me.”