“I never tried it but once —­ it didn’t fail me then,” said the old woman.  “The Lord keeps his promises. —­ I tried it a good while —­ it don’t do to stop knockin’.”

“But I must —­ one must try to do something —­ I must try to do my duty,” said Elizabeth.

“Surely!” said Karen, facing round upon her again, “but you can’t help that.  Do you s’pose you can love Jesus Christ, and not love to please him?  ‘Tain’t in natur’ —­ you can’t help it.”

“But suppose I don’t love him, Karen?” said Elizabeth, her voice choking as she said it.  “I don’t know him yet —­ I don’t know him enough to love him.”

There was a little pause; and then without looking at her, Karen said in her trembling voice, a little more trembling than it was,

“I don’t know, Miss ’Lizabeth —­ ’To them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name!’ —­ I heard a man preach that once.”

The tears rushed in full measure to Elizabeth’s eyes.  She stood, not heeding Karen nor anything else, and the thick veil of tears hiding everything from her sight.  It was a moment of strong joy; for she knew she believed in him!  She was, or she would be, one of ‘his people.’  Her strong pillar of assurance she clasped again, and leaned her heart upon, with unspeakable rest.

She stood, till the water had cleared itself from her eyes; and then she was turning into the house, but turned back again, and went close up to the old black woman.

“Thank you, Karen,” said she.  “You have given me comfort.”

“You hain’t got it all,” said Karen without looking at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you ever read a book called the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ young lady?”

“No.”

“I ain’t much like the people there,” said Karen, “but they was always glad to hear of one more that was going to be a pilgrim; and clapped their hands, they did.”

“Did you ever read it, Karen?”

“I hearn Mis’ Landholm read it —­ and the Governor.”

Elizabeth turned away, and she had not half crossed the kitchen when she heard Karen strike up, in a sweet refrain,

“I’ll march to Canaan’s land,
“I’ll land on Canaan’s shore,” —­

Then something stopped the song, and Elizabeth came back to her room.  She sat down by the window.  The light was changed.  There seemed a strange clear brightness on all things without that they had not a little while ago, and that they never had before.  And her bread was sweet to her that night.

CHAPTER XIV.

Heaven doth with us as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves:  for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, ’twere all alike
As if we had them not. 
SHAKSPEARE.

Much against Mrs. Nettley’s will, she was despatched on her journey homewards within a few days after.  She begged to be allowed to stay yet a week or two, or three; but Elizabeth was unmoveable.  “It would make no difference,” she said, “or at least I would rather you should go.  You ought to be there —­ and I may as well learn at once to get used to it.”