"'Simply to Thy cross I cling,'" she repeated listlessly.
"If you must have a salve for your wounded heart," Lulu went on, as she toyed with the bright curls that lay against her shoulder still, "there is nothing on earth that so fills up vacant heart and life as the cross of Christ the Crucified; Gracie, do you ever pray?"
"I am too wretched," she answered, hopelessly.
"Too wretched! Oh, Gracie, dear friend, do you forget how in the darkest hours our Lord spent in the Garden of Gethsemane that, being in an agony, He prayed more earnestly? It is in hours of the deepest suffering that we should pray most. When we feel that earth offers no consolation, where can we look but to heaven? And the blessing of God must follow such prayers, since Christ himself has set us the example," continued the young mentor, earnestly.
"No blessings ever follow my prayers," answered the mourner, with her eyes fixed sadly, through a mist of tears, on the figure that clung "helpless" to the cross, "even when I pray, which I do—sometimes."
"You do not pray in the right spirit, then," said her friend, gently but firmly. "You do not expect a blessing to follow your prayers, and we are only healed by faith, not by the simple act of prayer, but by the faith that breathes in it. If you asked a blessing nightly, it would follow prayer, be sure. Remember His promise, 'Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find.'"
"I know, I know," answered Grace, mournfully; "but heaven and earth alike seem to have no mercy on me. Come, Lulu, my little ponies are impatient waiting so long," and pausing a moment to bathe her tear-stained face in a basin of perfumed water, she floated down the stairs, followed by the sweet little preacher.
"Now, then," with a forced laugh, as they disposed the elegant blue silk carriage-robe over their white dresses to keep out the summer dust, and dashed off in the exquisite little phaeton that was the envy of all Norfolk; "now, then, we are off like the wind for Ocean View."
She was a skillful driver, and the beautiful, spirited little ponies knew no law but her will. They flew like the wind, as she had said; but as they rode on out of the narrow streets of Norfolk, and into the cool, shady forest road, the sunshine glinting down through interstices of the trees, the leafy boughs bending till they swept against the brims of their broad straw hats—in the midst of all her idle and incessant chatter, she heard one low sentence ringing in her ears, and an involuntary prayer was rising in her heart: "Lord, teach me to feel that simply to Thy cross I cling." She had been too proud almost to humble herself even before the throne of God; she had felt that God himself was unjust to her, and willful and wretched, she had gone on her darkened way, asking no pity from God nor man. To-day, the kind words of Lulu had stirred a chord in her thoughtful heart that vibrated painfully as the question forced itself on her mind: "Have I been unjust to and neglectful of my God?" In a mind so pure and clearly balanced as was hers, the seeds of evil could not take very deep root, and the word spoken "in season" by the gentle Lulu was beginning to bear fruit already, though Lulu dreamed not of it, as she kept time with the stream of light and careless words her companion unceasingly kept up.
"Let me drive," she said, at last, noting the unwonted rose-tint that colored the fair cheek, and thinking it was the effect of fatigue; "you have been driving nearly an hour, and it will be another hour before we see Ocean View," and taking the reins with gentle force, drove on; while the other, relieving her fair hands of their damp driving-gloves, folded them across her lap, and laying back her head, gave herself up to mournful retrospection, watching the blue heavens smiling over their heads, the play of the sunshine on the leaves and flowers as they flashed past, and the transient glimpses of the sea now and then glimmering through openings in the woods. Lulu's gaze dwelt pityingly on the fair face that looked so child-like as it lay back against the silken cushioning of the phaeton, the long black lashes shading the flushed cheek, the golden locks, moist with the warmth of the day, clustering in short, spiral rings all about the pearl-fair forehead, whose blue veins were so distinctly outlined that Lulu could see how they throbbed with the intensity of her thoughts. There was so much fire and spirit, combined with sweetness in that face; its exquisite chiseling, its full yet delicate lips, its round, dimpled chin, the small, sensitive nostril, the perfection of dainty coloring and expression, that Lulu could well understand how this beauty, joined to so sweet a soul, could hold men willing captives, and at thought of her brother, Lulu sighed deeply, and to shake off the depression that was creeping over her, she said, gayly: