The sisters stood for a moment gazing in a bewildered way each into the other’s face.  Not one word had they understood; but the gestures had been more intelligible.  Aunt Dicey had pointed toward the open door of the adjoining room, and they comprehended that it was intended for their occupancy.

“What a dark-skinned woman, sister,” said Alma at last.  “What did she say?  What language does she speak?”

Christine shook her head.  “Could it be English?  I do not know; it did not sound like the English the gentleman and lady speak when talking to each other.  But she brought us here, and from the motions she made while talking I think she said these two rooms were for us to use.”

“These rooms for us? these beautiful rooms?” exclaimed Alma in astonishment and delight, glancing about upon the neat, tasteful, even elegant appointments of the one in which they were, then hastening into the other to find it in no way inferior to the first.  “Ah, how lovely!” she cried; “see the pretty furniture, the white curtains trimmed with lace, the bed all white and looking, oh, so comfortable! everything so clean, so fair and sweet!”

“Yes, yes,” said Christine, tears trembling in her eyes; “so far better than we ever dreamed.  But it may be only for to-night; to-morrow, perhaps, we may be consigned to lodgings not half so good.  Ah, I hear steps on the stairs; they will be bringing our supper.  Let us wash the dust from hands and face that we may be ready to eat.”

Presently, seated at the table, they found abundant appetite for the food set before them, and remarked to each other again and again, how very good it was, the best they had tasted in many, many days.

“We have fallen in with the best of friends, Christine,” said Alma, “have we not?  Oh, what a fortunate mistake was that that put us on the wrong road!”

“It was by the good guidance of our God, Alma,” said Christine; “and oh, how shortsighted and mistaken were we in mourning as we did over the sickness that separated us from the rest of our company and left us to travel alone in a strange land; alone and penniless!”

“We will have more faith in future,” said Alma; “we will trust the Lord, even when all is dark and we cannot see one step before us.”

“God helping us,” added Christine, devoutly; “but, alas! we are prone to unbelief; when all is bright and the path lies straight before us, we feel strong in faith; when clouds and darkness cover it from sight, our faith is apt to fail and our hearts to faint within us.”

When the last of their guests of the evening had gone, Edward and Zoe bethought them of their protegees, and went to the sewing-room to inquire how they were, and if they had been provided with everything necessary to their comfort.

They found Christine seated in an arm-chair by the table, with the lamp drawn near her, and reading from a pocket Testament.  She closed and laid it aside on their entrance, rising to give them a respectful greeting.