"Two of them," said Alice, faintly, "and hardly that, now."
"I have not one," said the old woman, "I have not one; but my home is in heaven, and my Saviour is there, preparing a place for me. I know it I am sure of it and I can wait a little while, and rejoice all the while I am waiting. Dearest Miss Alice 'none of them that trust in him shall be desolate;' don't you believe that?"
"I do, surely, Mrs. Vawse," said Alice, wiping away a tear or two; "but I forget it sometimes; or the pressure of present pain is too much for all that faith and hope can do."
"It hinders faith and hope from acting that is the trouble. 'They that seek the Lord, shall not want any good thing.' I know that is true, of my own experience; so will you, dear."
"I know it, Mrs. Vawse I know it all; but it does me good to hear you say it. I thought I should become accustomed to John's absence, but I do not at all; the autumn winds all the while seem to sing to me that he is away."
"My dear love," said the old lady, "it sorrows me much to hear you speak so; I would take away this trial from you if I could; but He knows best. Seek to live nearer to the Lord, dear Miss Alice, and he will give you much more than he has taken away."
Alice again brushed away some tears.
"I felt I must come and see you to-day," said she, "and you have comforted me already. The sound of your voice always does me good. I catch courage and patience from you, I believe."
" 'As iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.' How did you leave Mr. and Mrs. Marshman? and has Mr. George returned yet?"
Drawing their chairs together, a close conversation began. Ellen had been painfully interested and surprised by what went before, but the low tone of voice now seemed to be not meant for her ear, and turning away her attention, she amused herself with taking a general survey.