When Mrs. Travilla had left, she took up her Bible—­that precious little volume, her never-failing comforter—­and in turning over its leaves her eye fell upon these words:  “Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake.”

They sent a thrill of joy to her heart; for was not she suffering for his sake? was it not because she loved him too well to disobey his commands, even to please her dearly beloved earthly father, that she was thus deprived of one privilege, and one comfort after another, and subjected to trials that wrung her very heart?

Yes, it was because she loved Jesus.  She was bearing suffering for his dear sake, and here she was taught that even to be permitted to suffer for him, was a privilege.  And she remembered, too, that in another place it is written:  “If we suffer, we shall also reign with him.”

Ah! those are tears of joy and thankfulness that are falling now.  She has grown calm and peaceful, even happy, for the time, in the midst of all her sorrow.

CHAPTER IX.

“Heaven oft in mercy smites, e’en when the blow Severest is.”

JOANNA BAILLIE’S ORRA.

“The heart knoweth his own bitterness.”

PROV. 14:10.

But only a few days after Mrs. Travilla’s visit, an event occurred, which, by exciting Elsie’s sympathy for the sorrows of another, and thus preventing her from dwelling so constantly upon her own, was of great benefit to her.

Adelaide received a letter bringing tidings of the death of one who had been very dear to her.  The blow was very sudden—­entirely unexpected—­and the poor girl was overwhelmed with grief, made all the harder to endure by the want of sympathy in her family.

Her parents had indeed given their consent to the contemplated union, but because the gentleman, though honorable, intelligent, educated and talented, was neither rich nor high-born, they had never very heartily approved of the connection, and were evidently rather relieved than afflicted by his death.

Elsie was the only one who really felt deeply for her aunt; and her silent, unobtrusive sympathy was very grateful.

The little girl seemed almost to forget her own sorrows, for the time, in trying to relieve those of her bereaved aunt.  Elsie knew—­and this made her sympathy far deeper and more heartfelt—­that Adelaide had no consolation in her sore distress, but such miserable comfort as may be found in the things of earth.  She had no compassionate Saviour to whom to carry her sorrows, but must bear them all alone; and while Elsie was permitted to walk in the light of his countenance, and to her ear there ever came the soft whispers of his love—­“Fear not:  thou art mine”—­“I have loved thee with an everlasting love”—­“I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,” to Adelaide all was darkness and silence.