We must
let our Heavenly Father take care of us."
"And he will, grandpa," whispered Fleda.
"Yes dear!--We are selfish creatures. Your father's and your mother's
child will not be forgotten."
"Nor you either, dear grandpa," said the little girl, laying her soft
cheek alongside of his, and speaking by dint of a great effort.
"No," said he, clasping her more tenderly,--"no--it would he wicked in me
to doubt it. He has blessed me all my life long with a great many more
blessings than I deserved; and if he chooses to take away the sunshine of
my last days I will bow my head to his will, and believe that he does all
things well, though I cannot see it."
"Don't, dear grandpa," said Fleda, stealing her other arm round his neck
and hiding her face there,--"please don't!--"
He very much regretted that he had said too much. He did not however know
exactly how to mend it. He kissed her and stroked her soft hair, but that
and the manner of it only made it more difficult for Fleda to recover
herself, which she was struggling to do; and when he tried to speak in
accents of cheering his voice trembled. Fleda's heart was breaking, but
she felt that she was making matters worse, and she had already concluded
on a mature review of circumstances that it was her duty to be cheerful.
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