“I only came on deck yesterday; for, as I told you, the weather was so rough, and I was so ill, that I had to stay all the time in my cabin. Your father was as well as ever, indeed he said that he was never better in his life; and as I lay there for several weary days, I could hear his voice, now and then talking with the other passengers, and sometimes he would come in and tell me where we were, and what was the state of the weather, until at length he was able to tell me that the wind was going down, and that probably we should have some bright, calm weather; and I was very glad to think that I should be able to leave my dark cabin, and sit out where the sun was shining, and where the sea was stretching beneath it, until it met the spreading sky far away.

“There are a great many ladies and gentlemen on board; some of them, as we are doing, leaving their dear little children in English homes, and hoping to see them again some day. Some of them have one or two of their youngest children with them, and my only one is far away from me; but I know that God is taking care of my darling child, and from my heart I can say, ‘Thy will be done;’ for though I would have chosen another way, He who chose for me, loves me so tenderly, that I can sit at His feet and submit myself to what He has said.

“And that is what I want you to do, my own dear child; that is what I pray for you when my heart rises up to my Father’s heart and says, ‘God bless my child.’ I want you to remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is your Lord; for you told me that you trust in Him, and that He is your hope, and so I want you to remember that if you submit yourself to Him, you are owning Him as Lord, whom the God of all the world has made Lord and Christ; and so if you are meek and gentle, when something wrong tempts you to be passionate and proud, if you are kind and helpful to others, when selfishness tempts you to please yourself, you are acknowledging this blessed Master as yours. Is not this a happy thought, my Arthur? and do you not like to give pleasure to the One who loves you so, and who did for you what can never be told?

“And now, good-bye, my child. I need not give you your father’s love, for you have it already, and he joins his prayers for you with mine every day, that our God will bless you and keep you; and He will; for ‘He that keepeth thee will not slumber.’

“Your loving Mother.”

Great big tears were running down Arthur’s face as he finished the letter; but there was a bright look there too, as he folded it up with an air of great content. “Auntie,” he said, “would there be any use in my writing a letter now? When would she get it?”

“I think it would be a very good plan if you write now; your mother would find the letter awaiting her in Madras. It would not take nearly so long going as they do.”

“Poor mamma,” said Arthur, “I don’t believe the sea is good for her, after all; you see how ill she is.”

“Oh, yes! but she would very soon get over that; and then, depend upon it, the voyage will be very good indeed for her. Perhaps,” said Mrs. Estcourt softly, “that is the way with people in other things and ways.”

“I know what you mean, aunt,” said Arthur suddenly, “and I expect you are right.”