“The light has come back to thine eyes; dear child, and the peace,” said old Mrs Dorothy. “Ah, folks don’t always know what is the hardest to give up.”

And Phoebe, looking up with startled eyes, saw that Mrs Dorothy had guessed her secret. She went to the fire for fresh water from the kettle. Her face was as calm as usual when she returned. Softly she said,—

“‘Mon sort n’est pas à plaindre,
Il est à désirer;
Je n’ai plus rien à craindre,
Car Dieu est mon Berger.’”

The End.


| [Chapter 1] | | [Chapter 2] | | [Chapter 3] | | [Chapter 4] | | [Chapter 5] | | [Chapter 6] | | [Chapter 7] | | [Chapter 8] | | [Chapter 9] | | [Chapter 10] | | [Chapter 11] | | [Chapter 12] |