n
the hands of God, and I will trust Him."

"So is the middle, and so is the beginning, as well as the end,"
returned Laronde cynically; "why, then, are you so perplexed and anxious
about these if the end is, as you seem to think, so sure? Why don't you
trust God all through?"

"I do trust God all through, my friend, but there is this difference--
that with the end I have nothing to do save to wait patiently and
trustfully, whereas with the beginning and middle it is my duty to act
and energise hopefully."

"But why your anxiety if the whole matter is under safe guidance?"
persisted the Frenchman.

"Because, while I am absolutely certain that God will do His part wisely
and well, I am by no means sure that I shall do my part either well or
wisely. You forget, Laronde, that we are free agents as well as sinful
and foolish, more or less, so that there is legitimate room for anxiety,
which only becomes evil when we give way to it, or when it goes the
length of questioning the love, wisdom, and power of the Creator!"

"All mystery, all mystery, Sommers; you are only theorising about what
you do not, cannot, know anything. You have no ground for what you
hold."

"As you confess never to have studied, or even seriously contemplated,
the ground on which I hold it, there is--don't you think?--a slight
touch of presumption on your part in criticising so severely what you do
not, cannot, understand? I profess to have _good_ reasons for what I
hold; you profess merely to disbelieve it. Is there not a vast
difference here?"

"Perhaps there is, but I'm too sleepy to see it. Would you oblige me by
putting your foot on that centipede? He has made three ineffectual
attempts to pass the night under my wing. Make sure work of him.
Thanks. Now I will try to sleep. Oh! the weary, heart-sickness of hope
deferred! Good-night, Sommers."

"Good-night."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A BRAVE DASH FOR LIFE AND FREEDOM.

"Geo'ge, come wid me," said Peter the Great one afternoon, with face so
solemn that the heart of the young midshipman beat faster as he followed
his friend.

They were in Ben-Ahmed's garden at the time--for the middy had been
returned to his owner after a night in the common prison, and a threat
of much severer treatment if he should ever again venture to lay his
infidel hands on one of the faithful.

Having led the middy to the familiar summer house, where most of their
earnest or important confabulations