"Fret not thyself because of the ungodly.... Put thou thy trust in the Lord, and be doing good: dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thou in the Lord: and he shall give thee thy heart's desire."
"I will try to delight myself—that means, be cheerful and patient," Salome thought. "I must take care not to be too hard on Raymond, as if I thought myself better than he. But I feel as if it would be a fight now, and as if I should never be able to forget the troubles quite. I must set myself to be patient and cure my own faults, and be as happy as I can, that mother may see we are all trying to help her, and that we like to help her. How far, far worse it is for her than for any of us."
Thoughts like these were in Salome's heart as she lay down to sleep that night, and there was a shining as it were from the "delight in the Lord" upon her young, sweet face, as her mother, weary, yet sleepless, took her candle and went to look at her children as of old in the spacious nurseries of Maplestone. The little boys lay in the profoundest slumber, and the mother's heart yearned over them with unspeakable tenderness. But as she left them and gently opened the door of the girls' room, and stood by the bed where the sisters slept, she felt as if the story of the last few weeks had left its trace on Salome's face. The expression was changed, and though bright and sweet, it was the face of the woman rather than of the child. Salome had entered the school where God takes the text and preaches patience.
CHAPTER IX.
"SETTLING DOWN."
IT is wonderful how the wave of a great storm carries us unresisting on its crest. We are, as it were, washed ashore; stunned and bewildered for a time, but soon to find the necessity of struggling onward—to do our best. Stripped of all we have held dear,—however desolate, however bare, life must be faced and the burden must be borne.
Children like the Wiltons have youth and the freshness of spring-time to help them on; while women of Mrs. Wilton's age—in the autumn of her days—naturally clinging for support to others, are more likely to collapse, like the ivy when the prop on which it depended is removed.
A man so widely respected as Mr. Wilton had been was not without friends, and several of them came forward with valuable and substantial help. Ready money to meet the current expenses which were absolutely necessary was kindly offered; and Mr. De Brette wrote to Mrs. Wilton, after the sale at Maplestone, to say he had bought in one or two pictures, and some other little things, which she was to accept as a small token of gratitude for services rendered to him by Mr. Wilton in past years. The arrival of these things in the van from the railway caused great excitement amongst the children, while the sight of them seemed to open afresh the flood-gates of poor Mrs. Wilton's grief. They were chosen with that sympathetic feeling of what she would care for most, which doubled the value of the gifts. Her own and her husband's portrait, painted by a good artist at the time of her marriage; a beautiful copy of the San Sisto Madonna; her own devonport; a certain chair which she had always used; and the table and chair from Mr. Wilton's library; and a good many little odds and ends of familiar things. And a box containing enough plate for everyday use was brought by Mr. De Brette himself, and placed in Mrs. Wilton's hands.