"Letty, dear, has God taken your baby?"
Letty gave her a lack-luster look.
"Then," said Mary, "he is not far away, for we are all in God's arms."
But what is the use of the most sovereign of medicines while they stand on the sick man's table? What is the mightiest of truths so long as it is not believed? The spiritually sick still mocks at the medicine offered; he will not know its cure. Mary saw that, for any comfort to Letty, God was nowhere. It went to her very heart. Death and desolation and the enemy were in possession. She turned to go, that she might return able to begin her contest with ruin. Letty saw that she was going, and imagined her offended and abandoning her to her misery. She flew to her, stretching out her arms like a child, but was so feeble that she tripped and fell. Mary lifted her, and laid her wailing on her couch.
"Letty," said Mary, "you didn't think I was going to leave you! But I must go for an hour, perhaps two, to make arrangements for staying with you till Tom is over the worst."
Then Letty clasped her hands in her old, beseeching way, and looked up with a faint show of comfort.
"Be courageous, Letty," said Mary. "I shall be back as soon as ever I can. God has sent me to you."
She drove straight home, and heard that Mrs. Redmain was annoyed that she had gone out.
"I offered to dress her," said Jemima; "and she knows I can quite well; but she would not get up till you came, and made me fetch her a book. So there she is, a-waiting for you!"
"I am sorry," said Mary; "but I had to go, and she was fast asleep."