“No, Phil; come with me.  I am heavy-hearted, discouraged, and I need to be comforted,” said the much-tried woman, the sound of tears in her voice.  “Miss Minturn is very nice with Dorothy,” she continued, struggling for self-control; “the child always seems happy and to forget herself when she is with her.  Perhaps, though, you haven’t time,” she added, with sudden thought.

“Yes, I have, Emelie,” the man gently replied, “and we will have one of our old tramps together.  Come!  Let us get as far as possible from that pile of brick and stone and its too familiar surroundings.”  And still holding her hand, swinging it gently back and forth, he led her along the road towards the open country.

“What a strange world this is, Phil!” Mrs. Seabrook broke out, suddenly, after they had traversed quite a distance and talked of various matters.  “Everything in it seems to be at cross-purposes.”

“Do you think so, Emelie?  Look!”

The man checked her steps and pointed to the view before them.  They had come to the brow of a hill, and there, spread out beneath them, was a valley teeming with luxuriant beauty that was a delight to the eye and full of exhilarating charm.  Thrifty farms dotted the broad expanse as far as they could see; springing fields of grain, interspersed with verdant meadows, and rich pastures dotted with their feeding kine were suggestive of prosperous homes and husbandmen; stretches of woodlands, with their sturdy trunks and vigorous branches, unfurled their banners of living green in varying shades and lent an air of dignity and strength to the attractive landscape.  Here and there an apple orchard, with trees in full bloom, gave a dainty touch of color to brighten the whole, and a small river winding its glimmering way, like a rope of silver thrown at random, made a graceful trail over the scene; while above it all fleecy clouds, skimming athwart a sky of vivid blue, cast lights and shadows that could not have failed to thrill and inspire the soul of an old master painter.

“I know—­that is lovely!  No, there are no cross-purposes in nature; it all seems in perfect harmony,” murmured Mrs. Seabrook, her eyes glowing with keen appreciation of the exquisite picture before her.  “It is only poor humanity that seems all out of tune,” she went on, the tense lines coming back to her face.  “Oh, Phillip! what is this mystery of suffering that we see all about us?  If God is tender, and loving, and supreme, why—­oh! why—­is the world so full of it?”

Dr. Stanley lifted the hand that he was still holding and laid it within his arm, drawing her closer to him with a tenderness which told her that he both knew and shared the heavy burden that weighed so heavily upon her heart.