nd well-dressed meat and
clean raiment not good things?"

Alice Benden's bright little laugh struck poor desponding Sens as a very
strange thing.

"Maybe a little of both, old friend. Surely there were four sore weeks
when I was shut up in Satan's prison, no less than in man's, and I
trusted not the Lord as I should have done--"

"Well, forsooth, and no marvel!"

"And as to beds and meat and raiment--well, I suppose they were not good
things for me at that time, else should my Father have provided them for
me."

Poor Sens shook her head slowly and sorrowfully.

"Nay, now, Mistress Benden, I can't climb up there, nohow.--'Tis a brave
place where you be, I cast no doubt, but I shall never get up yonder."

"But you have stood to the truth, Sens?--else should you not have been
here."

"Well, Mistress! I can't believe black's white, can I, to get forth o'
trouble?--nor I can't deny the Lord, by reason 'tisn't right comfortable
to confess Him? But as for comfort--and my poor little maids all alone,
wi' never a penny--and my poor dear heart of a man as they'd ha' took,
sure as eggs is eggs, if so be he'd been there--why, 'tis enough to
crush the heart out of any woman. But I can't speak lies by reason I'm
out o' heart."

"Well said, true heart! The Lord is God of the valleys, no less than of
the hills; and if thou be sooner overwhelmed by the waters than other,
He shall either carry thee through the stream, or make the waters lower
when thou comest to cross."

"I would I'd as brave a spirit as yourn, Mistress Benden."

"Thou hast as good a God, Sens, and as strong a Saviour. And mind thou,
'tis the weak and the lambs that He carries; the strong sheep may walk
alongside. `He knoweth our frame,' both of body and soul. Rest thou
sure, that if thine heart be true to Him, so long as He sees thou hast
need to be borne of Him, He shall not put thee down to stumble by
thyself."

"Well!" said Sens, with a long sigh, "I reckon, if I'm left to myself, I
sha'n't do nought but stumble. I always was a poor creature; Benedick
had to do no end o' matters for me: and I'm poorer than ever now he's
gone, so I think the Lord'll scarce forget me; but seems somehow as I
can't take no comfort in it."

"`Blessed are the poor in spirit!'" said Alice softly. "The `God of
all comfort,' Sens, is better than all His comforts."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

BEHIND THE ARRAS.

"You had best make up your mind, Grena, whilst you