two earlier than
you thought necessary, she may be all the better able to conquer. Dinna
fear for her. God will have her in His keeping."

Effie strove to find a voice to reply; but she could only say:

"Perhaps I am foolish. I will try."

"My dear," continued her friend, kindly, "I dinna wonder that you are
careful and troubled, and a wee faithless, sometimes. You have passed
through much sorrow of late, and your daily labour is of a kind that is
trying to both health and spirits. And I doubt not you have troubles
that are of a nature not to be spoken of. But take courage. There's
nothing can happen to you but what is among the `all things' that are to
work together for your good. For I do believe you are among those to
whom has been given a right to claim that promise. You are down among
the mist now; I am farther up the brae, and get a glimpse, through the
cloud, of the sunshine beyond. Dinna fret about Christie, or about
other things. I believe you are God-guided; and what more can you
desire? As the day wears on, the clouds may disperse; and even if they
shouldna, my bairn, the sun still shines in the lift above them."

They had reached the cross-road down which Effie was to take her
solitary way; for the bairns had gone on before. She stood for a moment
trying to make sure of her voice, and while she lingered Mrs Nesbitt
dropped a kiss, as tender as a mother's, on her brow, and said,
"Good-night!" A rush of ready tears was the only answer Effie had for
her then. But she was comforted. The tears that spring at kind words
or a gentle touch bring healing with them; and when Effie wiped them
away at last, it was with a thankful sense of a lightened burden, and
she went on her way with the pain that had ached at her heart so many
days a little softened.

Yes; Effie had trials that would not bear speaking about, and least of
all with John Nesbitt's mother. But they were trials that need not be
discussed in my little tale. Indeed, I must not linger longer at the
cottage by the wayside. I may not tell of the daily life of its
occupants, except that it grew more cheerful as the winter passed away.
The monthly letter brought them good tidings from the absent ones; and
with duties, some pleasant, some quite otherwise, their days were
filled, so that no time was left for repining or for distrustful
thoughts.

I must now follow the path taken by Christie's weary little feet.
Sometimes the way was dust