been sent, in order to make me grow? At least the doors were open; I
could go out and forsake myself! If a living power had caused me--and
certainly I did not cause myself--then that living power knew all about
me, knew every smallness that distressed me! Where should I find him? He
could not be so far that the misery of one of his own children could not
reach him! I turned my face into the grass, and prayed as I had never
prayed before. I had always gone to church, and made the responses
attentively, while I knew that was not praying, and tried to pray better
than that; but now I was really asking from God something I sorely
wanted. "Father in heaven," I said, "I am so miserable! Please, help me!"

I rose, went into the house, and up to the study, took a sock I was
knitting for my uncle, and sat down to wait what would come. I could
think no more; I could only wait.




CHAPTER XIII.


OLD LOVE AND NEW.

While I waited, as nearly a log, under the weariness of spiritual unrest,
as a girl could well be, the door opened. Very seldom did that door open
to any one but my uncle or myself: he would let no one but me touch his
books, or even dust the room. I jumped from the chest where I sat.

It was only Martha Moon.