“I don’t know,” Dinah said again, but there was less of hopelessness in her voice.  The shining certainty in Scott’s eyes was warring with her doubt.  “But then, why has He let me suffer so?”

“Why did He suffer so Himself?” Scott said.  “Except that He might learn obedience?  It’s a bitter lesson to all of us, Dinah; but it’s got to be learnt.”

“You have learnt it!” she said, with a touch of her own impulsiveness.

He smiled a little—­smiled and sighed.  “I wonder.  I’ve learnt anyhow to believe in the goodness of God, and to know that though we can’t see Him in all things, it’s not because He isn’t there.  Even those who know Him best can’t realize Him always.”

“But still you are sure He is there?” Dinah questioned.

“I am quite sure,” he said, with a conviction so absolute that it placed further questioning beyond the bounds of possibility.  “Life is full of problems which it is out of any man’s power to solve.  But to anyone who will take the trouble to see them the signs are unmistakable.  There is not a single soul that is left unaccounted for in the reckoning of God.  He cares for all.”

There was no contradicting him; Dinah was too weary for discussion in any case.  But he had successfully checked her tears at last; he had even in a measure managed to comfort her torn soul.  She lay for a space pondering the matter.

“I am afraid I am one of those who don’t take the trouble,” she said at length.  “But I shall try to now.  Thank you for all your goodness to me, Mr. Greatheart.”  She smiled at him wanly.  “I don’t deserve it—­not a quarter of it.  But I’m grateful all the same.  Please won’t you have your smoke now, and forget me and my troubles?”

That smile cheered Scott more than any words.  He recognized moreover that the delicate touch of reserve that characterized her speech was the first evidence of returning self-control that she had manifested.

He took out his cigarette-case again.  “I hope you haven’t found me over-presumptuous,” he said.

Dinah reached up a trembling hand.  “Presumptuous for helping me in the Valley of Humiliation?” she said.

He took the hand and held it firmly.  “I am so used to it myself,” he said, in a low voice.  “I ought to know a little about it.”

“Perhaps,” said Dinah thoughtfully, “that is what makes you great.”

He raised his shoulders slightly.  “You have always seen me through a magnifying-glass,” he said whimsically.  “Some day the fates will reverse that glass and then you will be unutterably shocked.”

Dinah smiled again and shook her head.  “I know you,” she said.

He lighted his cigarette, and then brought out a pocket-book.  “I want to write a note to Isabel,” he said.  “You don’t mind?”

“About me?” questioned Dinah.

“About the arrangements I am making.  She is motoring to Great Mallowes in any case to catch the afternoon express.”