And then came days of darkness. Why had God allowed her child to be taken? He could not have prevented her husband's desertion without taking away his free will, but the child did not wish to leave her; why did not God touch her with His healing hand? Was not her lot hard enough without this last trial? Why did not God, to make up for the loss of husband, allow the child to remain? Would not an earthly loving father have done as much? These questionings would come, and her heart could find no answers—yet.
And Nanna, who knew all about them, never chided. She just waited, knowing that ere long comfort would come. "It was the sight of sorrow such as yours that made Jesus shed tears," she said one day. "It fair broke the blessed Lord down to see that woman Mary cry so, and to see the trouble death brings."
"Then you don't think He's cross with me for fretting so?" asked Phebe, with some excitement.
"Not a bit of it, dearie. He knows right well what a blow it has been to you, and sympathises with you; rest on that."
"That is a comfort, but then, Nanna, why did He not prevent it? He is all-powerful, and could have prevented it if He had chosen!" It was the old cry from a broken heart, "Why! Why!"
"Because He wished for your child exactly the same as you do." She spoke very emphatically.
"What is that?" Phebe asked, eagerly.
"The greatest good. Be sure of this, if it had been for the child's good she would have stayed. God can judge so much better than we can what is the best, so He decided she was to go. You do believe, don't you, dearie, that God knows best?—He must do!"
"Yes." But the voice had no ringing tone in it.
"And there's another thing I want you to rest on, though you cannot work it out yet in your own mind, but it's true, for all that, and it's this, that God will make all this trouble work for good in your own life, quite apart from dear little Queenie's, or, even for your sake, He would not have permitted it."