"Tom and Charles have gone to the cricket match. I don't think Hamish
has come in."
"Why did you not go to cricket also?"
"I don't know," said Arthur. "I did not feel much inclination for
cricket this evening."
"You looked depressed, Arthur, but I have some good news for you,"
Constance said, bending over him with a bright smile. "It is settled
about my going out, and I am to have forty guineas a year. Guess where
it is to?"
Arthur threw his arm round Constance, and they stood together, looking
at the trailing honeysuckle just outside the window. "Tell me,
darling."
"It is to Lady Augusta's. William has been talking to her, and she
would like to have me. Does it not seem lucky to find it so soon?"
"_Lucky_, Constance?"
"Ah, well! you know what I think, Arthur, though I did say 'lucky,'"
returned Constance. "I know it is God who is helping us."
Very beautiful, very touching, was the simple trustfulness reposed in
God, by Constance and Arthur Channing. The good seed had been sown on
good ground, and was bringing forth its fruit.
"I was deep in a reverie when you interrupted me, Constance," Arthur
resumed. "Something seems to whisper to me that this loss, which we
regard as a great misfortune, may turn out for good in the end."
"In the end! It may have come for our good now," said Constance.
"Perhaps I wanted my pride lowered," she laughed; "and this has come to
do it, and is despatching me out, a meek governess.
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