We heard Grandmamma saying good-night to my Uncle Charles at the foot of the stairs, and Lucette ran off to her chamber.
I felt more plagued than ever. What is right?
Just then Annas and Flora came up; Annas grave but composed, Flora with a white face and red eyes.
“O Cary, Cary!” She came and put her arms round me. “Pray for Angus; we shall never see him again. And he is not ready—he is not ready.”
“My poor Flora!” I said, and I did my best to soothe her. But Annas did better.
“The Lord can make him ready,” she said. “He healed the paralytic man, dear, as some have it, entirely for the faith of them that bore him. And surely the daughter of the Canaanitish woman could have no faith herself.”
“Pray for him, Annas!” sobbed Flora. “You have more faith than I.”
“I am not so hard tried—yet,” was the grave reply.
“You do not think Mr Keith in danger?” said I.
“I think the Lord sitteth above the water-floods, Cary; and I would rather not look lower. Not till I must, and that may be very soon.”