the Master Himself; to meet every negligence on the part of the
servants as His choice for me at the moment; to be satisfied and
patient when Ernest gets particularly absorbed in his books because
my Father sees that little discipline suitable for me at the time;
all this I have not fully learned."

"All you say discourages me," said Helen, in a tone of deep
dejection. "Such perfection was only meant for a few favored ones,
and I do not dare so much as to aim at it. I am perfectly sure that I
must be satisfied with the low state of grace I am in now and always
have been."

She was about to leave me, but I caught her hand as she would have
passed me, and made one more attempt to reach her poor, weary soul.

"But are you satisfied, dear Helen?" I asked, as tenderly as I would
speak to a little sick child. "Surely you crave happiness, as every
human soul does!"

"Yes, I crave it," she replied, "but God has taken it from me.

"He has taken away your earthly happiness, I know, but only to
convince you what better things He has in store for you. Let me read
you a letter which Dr. Cabot wrote me many years ago, but which has
been an almost constant inspiration to me ever since."

She sat down, resumed her work again, and listened to the letter in
silence. As I came to its last sentence the three children rushed in
from school, at least the boys did, and threw themselves upon me like
men assaulting a fort. I have formed the habit of giving myself