Faxon requested to see
her, and was shown to her room. She had just been restored to
consciousness, by the assiduous efforts of her maids, as the good man
entered.
"O, Mr. Faxon!" sobbed Emily, but she could articulate no more. The
terrible reality of her situation had entirely overcome her.
"Be comforted, my dear child," said Mr. Faxon, affectionately, taking
her hand. "The ways of Providence are mysterious, and we must bend
humbly to our lot."
"I will try to be resigned to my fate, terrible as it is," replied
Emily, looking at the minister with a subdued expression, while hot
tears poured down her cheeks. "You will not forsake me, if all others
do!"
"No, no, my dear child; it is my duty to wrestle with sorrow. I have
come to direct your thoughts to that better world, where the
distinctions of caste do not exist."
"O, that I could die!" murmured Emily, as a feeling of despair crept to
her mind.
"Nay, child, you must not repine at the will of Heaven. In God's own
good time He will call you hence."
"I will not repine; but what a terrible life is before me!"
"The future is wisely concealed from us.
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