"I know I do," I returned, replying to her last question.
"Better than I do myself?" she asked with an arch smile.
"Considerably, if I mistake not," I answered.
"How delightful! To think that I am understood even when I don't understand
myself!"
"But even if I am wrong, you are yet understood. The blessedness of life is
that we can hide nothing from God. If we could hide anything from God, that
hidden thing would by and by turn into a terrible disease. It is the sight
of God that keeps and makes things clean. But as we are both, by mutual
confession, fond of this kind of weather, what do you say to going out with
me? I have to visit a sick woman."
"You don't mean Mrs. Coombes, papa?"
"No, my dear. I did not hear she was ill."
"O, I daresay it is nothing much. Only old nursey said yesterday she was in
bed with a bad cold, or something of that sort."
"We'll call and inquire as we pass,--that is, if you are inclined to go
with me."
"How can you put an _if_ to that, papa?"
"I have just had a message from that cottage that stands all alone on the
corner of Mr.
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