seeing she had not heard the sermon herself.

Here Wynnie spoke from her dark corner, apparently forcing herself to
speak, and thereby giving what seemed an unpleasant tone to what she said.

"Well, papa, I don't know what to think. You are always telling us to trust
in Him; but how can we, if we are not good?"

"The first good thing you can do is to look up to him. That is the
beginning of trust in him, and the most sensible thing that it is possible
for us to do. That is faith."

"But it's no use sometimes."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you--I mean I--can't feel good, or care about it at all."

"But is that any ground for saying that it is no use--that he does not heed
you? that he disregards the look cast up to him? that, till the heart goes
with the will, he who made himself strong to be the helper of the weak, who
pities most those who are most destitute--and who so destitute as those who
do not love what they want to love--except, indeed, those who don't want to
love?--that, till you are well on towards all right by earnestly
seeking it, he won't help you? You are to judge him from yourself, are
you?--forgetting that all the misery in you is just because you have not
got his grand presence with you?"

I spoke so earnestly as to be somewhat incoherent in words. But my reader
will understand. Wynnie was silent. Connie, as if partly to help her