“Some days I am so well,” she replied, unwilling to grieve him. “I would like him to see me first on one of my good days. I am sure to hear soon now.”
They had hardly turned to enter the house when they saw a messenger wearing the uniform of the Telegraph Department approaching.
“Oh, Jack!” she cried, “there it is!”
“Come, Iola,” said Jack, almost sternly, “come in and sit down.” So saying, he brought her into the library and made her recline upon the couch, in that sunny room near the window where many of her waking hours were spent.
It was Alan who took the message. They all followed him into the library. “Shall I open it?” he asked, with an anxious look at Iola.
“Yes,” she said faintly, laying both hands upon her heart.
Lady Ruthven came to her side. “Iola, darling,” she said, taking both her hands in hers, “it is good to feel that God's arms are about us always.”
“Yes, dear Lady Ruthven,” replied the girl, regaining her composure; “I'm learning. I'm not afraid.”
Opening, Alan read the message, smiled, and handed it to her. She read the slip, handed it to Jack, closed her eyes, and, smiling, lay back upon her couch. “God is good,” she whispered, as Lady Ruthven bent over her. “You were right. Teach me how to trust Him better.”
“Are you all right, Iola?” said Jack, anxiously feeling her pulse.