“Only crowns and harps?” the child went on thoughtfully. “Aunt Alice has both, Father. I think she must make right sweet music. I hope I sha’n’t be far from her. Perhaps it won’t be very long before I hear her. Think you it will, Father?”
Little Christabel had no idea what a sharp cross she had laid on her father’s heart by asking him that question. Roger Hall had to fight with himself before he answered it, and it was scarcely to her that his reply was addressed.
“‘Not as I will, but as Thou wilt.’ ‘He knoweth the way that I take.’ ‘I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee.’”
“Oh, Father, what pretty verses! Were you thinking perhaps you’d miss me if I went soon, poor Father? But maybe, I sha’n’t, look you. ’Tis only when I ache so, and feel all over strings, sometimes I think— But we don’t know, Father, do we? And we shall both be there, you know. It won’t signify much, will it, which of us goes first?”
“It will only signify,” said Roger huskily, “to the one that tarrieth.”
“Well,” answered Christie brightly, “and it won’t do that long. I reckon we scarce need mind.”