"
"But how can I help it, papa?" she asked piteously. "I am made so."
But as she spoke the dawn was clear upon the height of her forehead.
"You are not made yet, as I am always telling you; and God has ordained
that you shall have a hand in your own making. You have to consent, to
desire that what you know for a fault shall be set right by his loving will
and spirit."
"I don't know God, papa."
"Ah, my dear, that is where it all lies. You do not know him, or you would
never be without hope."
"But what am I to do to know him!" she asked, rising on her elbow.
The saving power of hope was already working in her. She was once more
turning her face towards the Life.
"Read as you have never read before about Christ Jesus, my love. Read with
the express object of finding out what God is like, that you may know him
and may trust him. And now give yourself to him, and he will give you
sleep."
"What are we to do," I said to my wife, "if Percivale continue silent? For
even if he be in love with her, I doubt if he will speak.
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