"I know it, Sir," said Fleda, unable quite to keep back her
tears; "and I know very well this thread of our life will not
bear the strain always — and I know that the strands must, in
all probability, part unevenly — and I know it is in the power
of no blind fate — but that —"

"Does not lessen our clinging to each other. O no! — it grows
but the tenderer and the stronger for the knowledge."

Fleda could but cry.

"And yet," said he, very kindly, "we who are Christians may
and ought to learn to take troubles hopefully, for
'tribulation worketh patience, and patience,' that is, quiet
waiting on God, 'works experience' of his goodness and
faithfulness; and 'experience worketh hope,' and that 'hope,'
we know, 'maketh not ashamed.' "

"I know it," said Fleda; "but, Mr. Olmney, how easily the
brunt of a new affliction breaks down all that chain of
reasoning!"

"Yes!" he said, sadly and thoughtfully; "but, my dear Miss
Fleda, you know the way to build it up again. I would be very
glad to bear all need for it away from you."

They had reached the gate. Fleda could not look up to thank
him; the hand she held out was grasped, more than kindly, and
he turned away.