“My dear child, it only depends on yourself to feel your Heavenly Father loving you. If you will set yourself to pray with your heart, and think of His goodness to you, and ask Him for help and solace in all your present vexatious and difficulties, never mind how small, you will become conscious of his tender pity and love to you.”
“Ah! but I am not good!”
“But He can make you so, Kate. Your have been wearied by religious teaching hitherto, have you not?”
“Except when it was pretty and like poetry,” whispered Kate.
“Put your heart to your prayers now, Kate. Look in the Psalms for verses to suit your loneliness; recollect that you meet us in spirit when you use the same Prayers, read the same Lessons, and think of each other. Or, better still, carry your troubles to Him; and when you have felt His help, you will know what that is far better than I can tell you.”
Kate only answered with a long breath; not feeling as if she could understand such comfort, but with a resolve to try.
“And now,” said Mr. Wardour, “I must take you home to-morrow, and I will speak for you to Lady Barbara, and try to obtain her forgiveness; but, Kate, I do not think you quite understand what a shocking proceeding this was of yours.”
“I know it was wrong to fancy that, and say that about Aunt Barbara. I’ll tell her so,” said Kate, with a trembling voice.
“Yes, that will be right; but it was this—this expedition that I meant.”
“It was coming to you, Papa!”