“Well,” said Frederica, with a long breath, “I will not be afraid. I think I am more angry than afraid.”
“But anger will not help us. Read what you read yesterday,” said Selina.
Frederica read on to the end of the chapter, and then turned back to the one before it, the second of First Peter. They could not have explained all those beautiful and wonderful words—nay, they knew that most of them they understood very imperfectly. But they could take comfort from them, lingering over a verse here and there, and speaking to one another words which might not have been very wise, but which were always reverent and trustful.
“It is ‘as new-born babes’ that He speaks to us. And babes are neither wise nor strong. But He cares for them all the same, and surely we ‘have tasted that the Lord is gracious,’” said Selina.
And so she went on to the end. It quieted them, and they went out to the garden to get the good of the sunshine, not less cheerfully than usual. The faces that the priest caught sight of as they passed were brighter than he had seen them for a good while.
“See, they have forgotten their troubles already,” said he, smiling. “You are mistaken in thinking they will resist. Sister Agnace is mistaken in thinking they will suffer. They will yield to circumstances and a strong will. From whom could they have inherited strength? Neither from father nor mother.”
“Frederica is like the little Jewess her grandmother. She may have inherited her strength,” said Madame. “I wish you could have seen her as I saw her a little while ago.”
“Ah, well! She has forgotten her anger already. See the little butterfly flitting about in the garden. There is nothing to fear from her.”
“I will send Sister Agnace to keep an eye on your butterfly. It is not necessary that they should tell their affairs to old Dixen who is there.”
She returned immediately.