Phyllis, and Phyllis kissed her, and said,

"I know, Elizabeth; and I am so glad."

"Richard told you?"

"No, indeed! Richard is too much astonished at his own happiness to
speak of it to-night. But when one loves, one understands naturally.
It has made me very happy. Why, Elizabeth, you are weeping!"

"I am strangely sorrowful, Phyllis. A shadow which I cannot account
for chills me. You know that I am neither imaginative nor sentimental;
but I am weeping to-night for grief which I apprehend, but which does
not exist."

"Why do that? The ills that never come are just the ills that give
us the sorest and most useless sorrow. They are not provided for--no
grace is promised for them."

"That may be, Phyllis, but these intangible griefs are very real ones
while they haunt us."

"I once knew a Methodist preacher who, whenever he felt himself haunted
by prospective cares and griefs, took a piece of paper and reduced
them, to writing, and so 'faced the squadron of his doubts.' He told
me that they usually vanished as he mustered them. Elizabeth, there
are more than sixty admonitions against fear or unnecessary anxiety
in the Bible, and these are so various, and so positive, that a
Christian has not actually a legitimate subject for worry left. Come,
let us face your trouble. Is it because in marrying Richard you will