"I hope he will soon be home," said Dorothy. "Mind you tell him how you
feel the instant he comes in."

Juliet answered with a smile, but that smile Dorothy never forgot. It
haunted her all the way home. When she entered her chamber, her eyes
fell upon the petal of a monthly rose, which had dropped from the little
tree in her window, and lay streaked and crumpled on the black earth of
the flower-pot: by one of those queer mental vagaries in which the
imagination and the logical faculty seem to combine to make sport of the
reason--"How is it that smile has got here before me?" she said to
herself.

She sat down and thought. Could it be that Juliet had, like herself,
begun to find there could be no peace without the knowledge of an
absolute peace? If it were so, and she would but let her know it, then,
sisters at least in sorrow and search, they would together seek the
Father of their spirits, if haply they might find Him; together they
would cry to Him--and often: it might be He would hear them, and reveal
Himself. Her heart was sore all day, thinking of that sad face. Juliet,
whether she knew it or not, was, like herself, in trouble because she
had no God.

The conclusion shows that Dorothy was far from hopeless. That she could
believe the lack of a God was the cause unknown to herself of her
friend's depression, implies an assurance of the human need of a God,
and a hope there might be One to be found. For herself, if she could but
find Him, she felt there would be nothing but bliss evermore. Dorothy
then was more hopeful than she herself knew. I doubt if absolute
hopelessness is ever born save at the word, _Depart from me_. Hope