"Thank the Lord!" Hubert exclaimed impulsively.
"Amen," she responded, still calmly.
On another evening Hubert returned with still another piece of news. He had gone to the Cleary Street Mission to speak, and was late in returning. Winifred, who loved to hear accounts of all his meetings, waited up for him. She was in her little sitting-room when he returned. He came straight to her door and answered her ready "come in" with a light step and glowing face. He plunged at the special matter of joy at once.
"Winifred," he said, "I am not going to China alone."
The color changed in her face at the sudden announcement.
"Who—who is it, Hubert? Is it—?"
"Adèle."
"Oh, Hubert, I am so glad!" she cried joyfully, and kissed him in warm congratulation.
Then suddenly the thought of her own loss intruded. Must she give her up also? Her eager gladness turned to a burst of tears. How swept of all whom she had loved, except her dear father, seemed the home scenes now. She would gladly have restrained herself for Hubert's sake, but the sudden grief was uncontrollable. She sobbed convulsively, as when years ago some childish grief had broken in storms upon her and Hubert had stood by in tearless but painful sympathy, suggesting boyish consolations, ready to sacrifice any plaything or possession that might mend her broken heart. Now he stood helplessly before this passionate outburst.
"Forgive me, Winifred," he said contritely, "it is cruel of me to take her away."