CHAPTER VI.

THE SHADOW OP DEATH.





When Wynnie appeared at dinner she looked ashamed of herself, and her face
betrayed that she had been crying. But I said nothing, for I had confidence
that all she needed was time to come to herself, that the voice that speaks
louder than any thunder might make its stillness heard. And when I came
home from my walk the next morning I found Mr. Percivale once more in the
group about Connie, and evidently on the best possible terms with all. The
same afternoon Wynnie went out sketching with Dora. I had no doubt that
she had made some sort of apology to Mr. Percivale; but I did not make the
slightest attempt to discover what had passed between them, for though it
is of all things desirable that children should be quite open with their
parents, I was most anxious to lay upon them no burden of obligation. For
such burden lies against the door of utterance, and makes it the more
difficult to open. It paralyses the speech of the soul. What I desired was
that they should trust me so that faith should overcome all difficulty that
might lie in the way of their being open with me. That end is not to he
gained by any urging of admonition. Against such, growing years at least,
if nothing else, will bring a strong reaction. Nor even, if so gained would
the gain be at all of the right sort. The openness would not be faith.
Besides, a parent must respect the spiritual person of his child, and
approach it with reverence, for that too looks the Father in the face, and
has an audience with him into which no earthly parent can enter even if he