Yes the voice was there, but its whispers were fainter and fainter, hour and hour, or rather she had closed her ears that she might not hear, and hardened her heart that she might not feel, but she should hear with her ears, and understand with her heart, and consent to be healed.
Pursuing her miserable resolution, however, she hardened her heart more and more, and by way of diverting her thoughts, she threw herself into whatever was going on, with an energy and gaiety which surprised all her friends, among whom she had hitherto passed for a quiet, retiring, and rather indolent person.
"How Emily has come out," remarked Lucy to Alice Parker, as they were finishing the trimming of the school-room, "she accomplished as much as any two in the room. I am glad to see her in such good spirits, for she has not seemed at all well lately. Most girls feel rather badly at not going home for the holidays, but she does not seem to mind it at all."
"Perhaps her home is not a pleasant one," said Alice.
"I believe she can hardly be said to have any home at present," said Lucy, "for her father is in Europe, and her mother is dead. I thought she would perhaps go home with Delia, but it seems she is expecting to stay."
"Do you take any one home with you?" asked Miss Parker.
"No," replied Lucy, "mother does not care about having me do so, and really I do not wish it myself. I think I enjoy myself more to have no one but our own family, and it is so pleasant at home that I grudge every evening that I am obliged to spend anywhere else. I never go out in holiday time, if I can help it."
"You must have a delightful home," remarked Miss Parker. "Ah, Lucy, you know very little of the trials of life."
"Perhaps you are not the very best judge of that, Alice," replied Lucy. "You remember the old story of the exchange of burdens. We know the weight of our own crosses but not the weight of those our neighbors carry. Only He who sends the cross knows that."
"Then you do have some trials," said Alice, interrogatively.