"God never would send you the darkness
If He knew you could bear the light;
But you would not cling to His guiding hand
If the way were always bright;
And you would not learn to walk by faith,
Could you always walk by sight."
She would try to walk by faith, but she dreaded the thought of facing those who had, as she knew, despised and disapproved of her mother; and deep down in her heart was still the hope that her grandparents would close their doors against her, in which case she would gladly return to the friends God had raised up for her in her time of need. Mr. M'Cosh was only a workingman, and his wife was only a working-woman, but there was nothing "common" about them as Felicia understood the word, and she was sure she would be quite content to live with them.
Suddenly Mrs. M'Cosh's rubicund countenance appeared round the door, and her deep voice interrupted Felicia's reverie—
"You've been here long enough, child," she said, "better come downstairs."
"I'm coming," Felicia answered readily, and though her face was swollen and her eyes red with weeping, her tone was less listless than it had been during the last few days.