"Mr. Ware was unwearied in his attentions to her; and, at length, she began to rally. Then I became ill, with anxiety, perhaps, or the cold I took from the night-watching, and it was quite touching to see how hard she tried to get well, that she might nurse me in turn. Oh, what a comfort it was when she began to smile again. You see how well she is now—she is never ill, and how cheerful and happy she seems. I try to think it all for the best, though it is difficult sometimes."
"Well, you have, indeed, had a great deal to vex you," said Mrs. Villars, much touched.
"I have, however, much happiness to look back upon," said Mrs. Lesly, sighing gently, "in my William's kindness for so many years; but my health is failing sadly—and I have one care certainly, when I think of leaving my children without a friend in the world to take care of them—particularly as with my life, my pension, which is the only source of our income, will cease."
"Yes," said Mrs. Villars, "it was almost a pity she did not marry the young man—what a provision it would have been for both."
"I think you would have acted as I did," said Mrs. Lesly, "would you not?"
"Why you know," she replied, "I never thought of those things as seriously as you do, and my love for my orphan children would have been a great temptation. Indeed, that love for my family guides me in almost everything, and after all, why his staying away from church would not have prevented her going."
"No, no, Caroline," said Mrs. Lesly, too indolent to contest this narrow view of the subject. "I have been foolish in many things, over and over again, but in this I feel that I acted wisely."
"Not with much worldly wisdom, dear Annie," said her sister, smiling.
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Lesly, "those who believe in an overruling Providence, act most wisely, even for this world, when they obey its laws."