"Him bery ill?" asked Phœbe quickly.
"Not hopelessly. But the Church in mercy afflicts that she may heal. Be content to trust her wisdom."
Then turning back as he was leaving, he added peremptorily,—"We shall not trifle any longer. Prepare your mistress for travelling, and I shall provide for her reception in a safe and peaceful retreat, where she may recover health and obtain resignation."
Again Phœbe curtseyed, for she was too much choked with sorrow and anger to speak, and kneeling down she groaned within her soul:
"Oh, dear Lord, what me do? Oh save, save! Thou art mighty to save, do it, O Lord, and make ole Phœbe praise Thee!"
"It is all right, Phœbe," said the Countess, after hearing what had passed. "We will prepare: listen how ready I am for my journey."
And opening Guy's Bible, she read in musical tones of triumph:
"'The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'
"There, Phœbe, your beloved Lord Jesus has done all this for me. My Shepherd, seeking and saving His poor lost sheep, leading away from the strife of this life's turmoil, to nourishing pastures and refreshing waters. My staff and stay, my table of provision, my cup of blessing; and now I am going to the place He has prepared for me, in the house of the Lord for ever."
"Yes, dear missy, bery bad heretic; hope massa Count him ob de same sort—den meet in de glory, sing togeder Hallelujah; happier dan eber be down here. Ole Phœbe cry for joy, tink dem safe from prison and priest for evermore."