“I have a bad headache to-day,” said Helen, by way of excuse for her tears. “It has been gloomy weather lately.”
“Gloomy within and without,” he assented, giving a meaning to her words that she had not meant to imply. “But in every cloud, you know, however dark it may be, there is always a silver lining.”
“We can’t always see it,” returned Helen, drying her tears.
“No; we very often cannot. But we may trust that it is there—and be patient.”
“I think it sometimes happens that we never see it—that all is gloomy to the end, the end of life. What then?”
“Then we may be sure that it is best for us it should be so. God directs all things.”
Helen sighed: she had not learnt the love and faith and submission that made up the sum of Mr. Leafchild’s life, bringing into it so strange a peace.
“Is it true that you are going to leave?” she asked. “We heard it mentioned.”
“Yes: when I shall be fully ordained. Mr. Singleton has to take his nephew. It was an old promise—that he should come to him for his first year, just as I have. I think I shall go to Worcester.”
“To Worcester?”