Uncle Titus and His Visit to the Country | Page 3

the quietest
possible tone, called forth another torrent of reproach and lamentation.
"How can you allow yourself to speak in that way? How can you say
such dreadful things?" cried the excited woman over and over again. "It
will not happen. What will become of us all; what will become of--you
know what I mean," and she cast a meaning glance at Dora. "No, Karl,
it would be more than I could bear, and we never have more trouble
sent to us than we can bear; I do not know how I should live; I could

not possibly endure it."
"My dear Ninette" said her brother quietly, "Do not forget one thing,
"'Thou art not in command, Thou canst not shape the end; God holds us
in his hand: God knows the best to send.'"
"Oh, of course, I know all that well enough. I know that is all true,"
assented Aunt Ninette, "but when one cannot see the end nor the help,
it is enough to kill one with anxiety. And then you have such a way of
speaking of terrible things as if they were certain to come, and I cannot
bear it, I tell you; I cannot."
"Now we will say good-night and not stand and dispute any longer, my
dear sister," said the Major, holding out his hand, "we will both try to
remember the words of the verse--'God knows the best to send.'"
"Yes, yes, I'll remember. Only don't take cold going across the street,
and step very softly as you go down the stairs, and Dora, do you hear!
Close the door very gently, and Karl, be careful of the draught, as you
cross the street!"
While the good irritating Aunt was calling after them all these
unnecessary cautions, Dora and her father had gone down the stairs and
had softly closed the house-door. They had only a narrow alley to cross
to reach their own rooms opposite.
The next afternoon, as Dora and her father seated themselves on their
favorite bench under the lindens, the child asked,
"Papa, is it possible that Aunt Ninette never knew the verse you
repeated to her last night?"
"Oh yes, my child, she has always known the lines," replied the Major.
"It is only for the moment that your good aunt allows herself to be so
overwhelmed with care and worry as to forget who governs all wisely.
She is a good woman, and in her heart she places her trust in God's
goodness. She soon comes to herself again."

Dora was silent for a while, and then she said thoughtfully,
"Papa, how can we help being 'overwhelmed with care and worry?' and
'killed with anxiety,' as Aunt Ninette said."
"By always remembering that everything comes to us from the good
God, my dear child. When we are happy, we must think of Him and
thank Him; when sorrow comes we must not be frightened and
distressed, for we know that the good God sends it, and that it will be
for our good. So we shall never be 'overwhelmed with care and worry,'
for even when some bitter trouble comes, in which we can see no help
nor escape, we know that God can bring good out of what seems to us
wholly evil. Will you try to think of this, my child? for sorrow comes to
all, and you will not escape it more than another. But God will help you
if you put your trust in Him."
"Yes, I understand you, papa, and I will try to do as you say. It is far
better to trust in God, than to let one's self be overwhelmed with care
and worry.'"
"But we must not forget," continued her father, after a pause, "that we
must not only think of God, when something special happens, but in
everything that we do, we must strive to act according to His holy will.
If we never think of Him, except when we are unhappy, we shall not
then be able easily to find the way to him, and that is the greatest grief
of all."
Dora repeated that she would ask God to keep her in the right way, and
as she spoke, her father softly stroked her hand, as it lay in his. He did
not speak again for a long time, but his eyes rested so lovingly and
protectingly on his little girl, that she felt as if folded in a tender and
strengthening embrace.
The sun sank in golden radiance behind the green lindens, and slowly
the father and child wended their way towards the high house in the
narrow street.
CHAPTER II.

LONG, LONG DAYS.
It was not many days after the events mentioned in the last chapter.
Dora sat by her father's bedside, her head buried