CHAPTER XIV.
Margaret wrote to Belle and to Laura about the new light and life that had come to her, though it cost her a great effort to do it. In reply, she received four or five pages from each; Belle wrote in great delight and earnestness, saying, she had never doubted for a moment that she was as safely in the ark as herself.
"Isn't it strange, darling," she went on, "that you did not see what I saw so plainly, that your love to me was really love to Christ? There is nothing in me to call forth such passionate devotion, and I knew it, all along; and how I have prayed that you might have the bliss of knowing that your Beloved was yours, and you His."
"'Bliss!'" re-echoed Margaret, "bliss is no word. It's heaven!"
Laura wrote one of her lively, domestic letters, full of "Pug" and "Trot;" and Margaret, while enjoying it, wished she could, for once, get a glimpse into her soul. She was just returning the letter to its envelope, a little chilled, when she perceived a scrap upon the floor that had fallen from it. It contained these words:
"And thou maun speak o' me to thy God.
And I will speak o' thee."
"Ah, she's all right!" was Margaret's joyful thought. "I begin to think she's as good as Belle, only different."
A few days later, as she sat at her easel, she suddenly felt herself seized from behind, and squeezed by somebody's arms.
"Take care, or you'll get covered with paint," she said, as soon as she could speak, and in a moment more, saw Laura's bright face, and Pug and Trot in the rear.