When little Effie recovered her senses, she could scarcely think they told her truly, for she was resting in her mother's arms; warm tears were falling on her cheeks, and endearing words sounding in her ears. It was the beginning of a new life of love and confidence between the mother and her child, and Effie had in the end little cause to regret her sorrowful Saturday afternoon, and her terror at sight of the dark figure stealing towards her bed in the dim moonlight.
To Mrs. Elwood, the widow confided the experiences of that still evening hour, when visions of unheeded mercy rose one after another to her mental vision, "How wonderfully God deals with us," said she. "Little did I think, when you came to ask my poor Effie to be your guest, and found her in trouble about a few baby treasures, that the words you then spoke would raise such a train of thought, and be, by God's blessing, the means of opening my eyes to my unthankfulness.
"Yes," continued Mrs. Henderson; "I can now say the words I never thought I should school my heart into agreeing with: 'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; and blessed be the name of the Lord;' yea, doubly blessed for all He still leaves me. May I be taught daily to own His goodness and my own unworthiness, and, while thanking Him for every gift, still own that I and all I have are in the Lord's hands, 'Let Him do what seemeth Him good,' both with me and mine."
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