“She is better, and I don’t know why Madame Precoe should take trouble in making plans for us. What has she to do with us, or our plans?”
“Nay, my child! It is not well to say anything in that voice and manner. It is not like you. It will all be well, as you often say. Why should you be afraid?”
“Yes, it will be well,” said Selina, and she thought so still, though she felt that her sister’s eyes were wet beneath her kiss. “We must have patience a little while. It will all be well.”
“Yes, it will be well,” said Miss Agnace, thinking how Father Jerome had set himself to the work of saving these children. Yet she sighed, too; for she had learned to love them dearly, and she longed that they should be happy, as well as safe. If Father Jerome were permitted to have his will as to their future life, she feared that suffering must come before the happiness. She could not help them much, she knew, still she gave them good counsel, repeated her little legends, and prayed earnestly to Mary and the saints in their behalf. In her heart she believed it would be well with them in the end, and in the meantime she longed to comfort them and to teach them as well. So that night, as the young girls sat in the darkening room a little sad and dreary, with the tears not very far from the eyes of either of them, she said softly,—
“My children, do you never comfort yourselves and one another by praying for your dear mother’s soul?”
Frederica looked at her in astonishment, not quite free from anger.
“I do not understand you, Miss Agnace,” said Selina gently.
“It would soothe and comfort you, would it not, to feel that you might still do something for your dear mama?”
“We do what we think would please her by loving one another, and caring for our brothers and Tessie. We can do nothing more,” said Selina.
“Ah! who knows?” said Miss Agnace. “It is dark beyond the grave.”