ssing crying; but the
signing him with the cross especially struck me, the token of suffering
even to this lamb. The next moment I saw the fitness--the cross given
to him to turn the legacy of pain to the honour of partaking of the
Passion--how much more for an innocent who has no penalty of his own to
bear!'

'I have read things like that, but--I know I am talking wrongly--it
always seems hard and stern to tell one not to grieve. You think it very
bad in me to say so; but, indeed, I never knew how one must care for a
baby.'

'No, indeed, there is no blaming you; but what would comfort you would
be to think of the Hand that is laid on him in love, for his highest
good.'

'But he wants no good done to him,' cried Violet. 'He has been good and
sinless from the time before even his father or I saw him, when you--'

'We cannot tell what he may need. We are sure all he undergoes is sent
by One who loves him better than even you do, who may be disciplining
him for future life, or fitting him for brighter glory, and certainly
giving him a share in the cross that has saved him.'

His gentle tones had calmed her, and she sat listening as if she
wished him to say more. 'Do you remember,' he added, 'that picture you
described to me this time last year, the Ghirlandajo's Madonna?'

'Oh, yes,' said Violet, pleased and surprised.

'She does not hold her son back from the cross, does she, though the
sword was to pierce through her own heart?'

'Yes; but that was for the greatest reason.'

'Indeed, it was; but He who was a Child, the firstborn Son of His
mother, does not afflict your baby without cause. He has laid on him as
much of His cross as he can bear; and if it be yours also, you know that
it is blessed to you both, and will turn to glory.'

'The cross!' said Violet; adding, after some thought, 'Perhaps thinking
of that might make one bear one's own troubles better.'

'The most patient person I ever knew found it so,' said John; and with
some hesitation and effort, 'You know about her?'

'A little,' she timidly replied; and the tears flowed again as she said,
'I have been so very sorry for you.'

'Thank you,' he answered, in a suppressed tone of grateful emotion,
for never was sympathy more refreshing to one who had long mourned in
loneliness.

Eager, though almost alarmed, at being thus introduced to the melancholy
romance of his history, Violet thought he waited for her to speak. 'It
was dreadful,' she said;