As for the Judas
tree, she hadn't an idea what it was, and gazed at it out there against
the sky with the rapt expression of one who sees a heavenly vision.
Mrs. Arbuthnot, coming out of her room, found her there like
that, standing in the middle of the hall staring.
"Now what does she think she sees now?" thought Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"We are in God's hands," said Mrs. Wilkins, turning to her,
speaking with extreme conviction.
"Oh!" said Mrs. Arbuthnot quickly, her face, which had been
covered with smiles when she came out of her room, falling. "Why, what
has happened?"
For Mrs. Arbuthnot had woken up with such a delightful feeling of
security, of relief, and she did not want to find she had not after all
escaped from the need of refuge. She had not even dreamed of
Frederick. For the first time in years she had been spared the nightly
dream that he was with her, that they were heart to heart, and its
miserable awakening. She had slept like a baby, and had woken up
confident; she had found there was nothing she wished to say in her
morning prayer, except Thank you. It was disconcerting to be told she
was after all in God's hands.
"I hope nothing has happened?" she asked anxiously.
Mrs. Wilkins looked at her a moment, and laughed. "How funny,"
she said, kissing her.
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