A great darkness came over Margaret. What could she do if this best friend of hers were to be taken now, when it seemed he could the least be spared?
“I will tell you all you ought to know, dear, about yourself, and give you the keys so that you may find the money you will need, and——”
A faintness came over him, and he gasped for breath.
“Oh, not now,” cried Margaret. “Do not distress yourself. I will not hear anything to-night.”
“To-morrow, then.”
“Yes, to-morrow, or next week, or any time. It does not matter about me.”
“Margaret, sing to me that hymn of Faber’s—
“I worship Thee, sweet Will of God,
And all Thy ways adore,
It will do us both good just now; if we sing the words we shall be able to feel the sentiment.”