be when there
would be no recovery.

'Yes!' he mused with himself; 'Violet has energy, conscientiousness,
high principle to act, but she does not know how to apply the same
principle to enable her to endure. She knows religion as a guide, not as
a comfort. She had not grown up to it, poor thing, before her need came.
She wants her mother, and knows not where to rest in her griefs. Helen,
my Helen, how you would have loved and cherished her, and led her to
your own precious secret of patience and peace! What is to be done for
her? Arthur cannot help her; Theodora will not if she could, she is left
to me. And can I take Helen's work on myself, and try to lead our poor
young sister to what alone can support her? I must try--mere humanity
demands it. Yes, Helen, you would tell me I have lived within myself too
long. I can only dare to speak through your example. I will strive to
overcome my reluctance to utter your dear name.'

He was interrupted by Violet coming down to make tea. She was now happy,
congratulating herself on the rapid improvement in the course of the
day, and rejoicing that John and the doctor had dissuaded her from
sending at once for Arthur.

'You were quite right, she said, 'and I am glad now he was not here. I
am afraid I was very fretful; but oh! you don't know what it is to see a
baby so ill.'

'Poor little boy--' John would have said more, but she went on, with
tearful eyes and agitated voice.

'It does seem very hard that such a little innocent darling should
suffer. He is not three months old, and his poor little life has been
almost all pain and grief to him. I know it is wrong of me, but I cannot
bear it! If it is for my fault, why cannot it be myself? It almost makes
me angry.'

'It does seem more than we can understand, said John, mournfully;
'but we are told, "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know
hereafter."'

'When all the other young things--lambs, and birds, and all--are so
happy, and rejoicing in the sunshine!' continued Violet; 'and children
too!' as some gay young voices floated in on the summer air, and brought
the tears in a shower.

'Don't grudge it to them, dear Violet,' said John, in his gentlest tone;
'my dear little godson is more blessed in his gift. It seems to accord
with what was in my mind when we took him to church. I do not know
whether it was from my hardly ever having been at a christening before,
or whether it was the poor little fellow's distre