“You are looking better than when I saw you at Newport,” madam said, with an admiring glance at her beautiful companion.
“Yes, I think my health is improving,” Editha answered; but she sighed as she said it, and a look of pain crossed her face.
Speaking of her ill-health always reminded her of its cause, and sent her thoughts flying over the sea to Earle.
The sigh touched madam, for she divined its cause; and, drawing the fair girl a little closer within her encircling arm, she laid her lips against her ear and tenderly whispered:
“We must never forget, dear, no matter how dark our lot, that One has said, ‘Thy strength is sufficient for thee.’”
Editha started, and her lip quivered a trifle.
“Do you think it is possible to realize that under all circumstances?” she asked, a slight tremulousness in her tone, notwithstanding her effort at self-control.
Madam drew her gently one side, and began walking slowly around the fountain, in order to be beyond the hearing of the others.
“In the first moments of our blind, unreasoning grief, perhaps not,” she answered, with grave sweetness. “I have known, dear child, what it is—
‘To wander on without a ray of hope,