"But the fever is subdued," argued Belle, "and that is the great thing. I heard Dr. J. tell Mrs. Pomeroy that he was very much encouraged about her."
"Doctors always say so," said Alice, "so that is nothing. For my part, if I were in her place, I would rather it should be so than not. I am sure there is very little in this world worth living for," she added, sighing as usual,—"nothing but sin and sorrow and all sorts of trials—there is nothing to tempt one to stay here longer than one can help."
"Well I don't know!" said Belle. "I think there is a good deal about it that is pleasant too—at least I should suppose there ought to be."
"Ought to be!" repeated Alice. "Why?"
"Who made the world?" asked Belle gravely.
"God made the world of course," was the reply, "nobody doubts that."
"And He orders all things in it, and arranges all its affairs and ours, according to the counsel of his wisdom and goodness—in other words by His Providence.—Does he?"
"Certainly," replied Alice. "What of it?"
"A good deal of it, I think," said Belle. "If God made the world and all things in it, he must have made it as He thought right, and I should think what was good enough for Him, ought to be good enough for you."
Alice looked a little startled by this view of the case. "But you cannot deny there are a great many trials in this life!"