"Perhaps not, dear," said Kitty, gently. "You have been very badly treated, no doubt; but Guy has acted so mean a part that if I were you, I would pluck up heart and show that I did not think him worth caring about. There are many things in life to live for still."
"I am weary of them all," said Hilda. "'We are weary, my heart and I,' I keep thinking of those lines. Everything has become hateful to me. I only want to lie still and be let alone. I can never bear to walk out in Woodham again."
"You feel so now, but the feeling will pass," said Kitty. "If only you would rouse yourself and face your trouble bravely, it would be so much better. I know it is a trouble, but many another girl has had such a disappointment, and there are worse troubles."
"It is easy to say so," said Hilda, bitterly; "but you know nothing about it. You have never loved as I have."
"And I devoutly hope I never shall," Kitty could not help saying; "but if such trouble came to me, I think I should do my best to bear it bravely. It is God who sends us trouble, and He means it to work our good."
"I don't see that there can be any good in my trouble," said Hilda, "and I do not believe God sent it. It is Guy who has deceived me and made me wretched."
"Nothing can happen to us apart from the will of God," said Kitty, "and He will help us to bear our sorrows if we put our trust in Him. When trouble comes to me, as I know it must some day, I hope I may be able to resign myself to His will, and learn the lesson He means it to teach me."
It was rarely Kitty spoke thus seriously, and her doing so, showed how anxious she was to help her sister. No one gave Kitty credit for much thoughtfulness; but, as is the case with many a lively girl, the hidden currents of her life were deeper than her friends supposed. It was not by chance that she was always cheerful, good-tempered, and unselfish. At the root of her character lay a simple but strong religious faith, and she had never forgotten the resolve made at the time of her father's death, that she would be good, and do all in her power to cheer and help her mother.
But Hilda was not in a mood to profit by her sister's words.
"I dare say you think so," she said, impatiently; "but wait till your turn comes—though I am sure I hope you may never know such trouble as mine. Do take that tray away, Kitty; it is impossible for me to eat."