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"Doctor, never fear! -- God reigns !- This will all work right!"

CHAPTER LVII.
The Clouds Disperse.

This sudden tempest which had just passed over the moral horizon of my earthly destiny, had in its violence left my earthly prospects a complete wreck. Nothing tangible was now to be found to rest my troubled soul upon. If it were not that my anchor had been cast within the veil, and found there a firm foundation to rest it upon, this foundering bark of my earthly-destiny must have become a perfect wreck.

But, thank God! this refuge of faith failed not, and thus I stood unharmed. Even my peace and composure of soul never forsook me for one hour, but on the contrary I and my friend Mrs. Olsen, seemed to be the only hopeful ones in the Asylum, as to the effect of this moral hurricane. From every part of this spacious house I could hear that the wail of pity for me was being expressed in language as various as the sources whence it came -- I received many of the most tender messages of sympathy suited to the emergency.

But in one particular all agreed that I should never see my book again.

"It is lost! forever lost -- as to your ever seeing it again," was the great unquestioning fact on which their sympathy was predicated.

Since I kept my own secrets in more than one particular, these sympathizers did not know on what ground I built my hope, when I assured them all:

"I shall get my book again! He will return it to me! He will not burn it!"

Was my prompt decided response, to their kind and generous sympathy.

This was to them a mystery they could not fathom, and I must add in truth to myself, that it was almost as much so to myself. But like Abraham, I felt that my darling book would in some way be saved, as was his darling Isaac. And, like him, I only knew by the assurance of faith in God's promises.

I knew that whatever I lost for truth's sake would be re-stored to me fourfold. I had deliberately exposed my book to save Dr. McFarland's soul; that is, I was willing to probe deep into this sinner's corrupt heart; lest the "hurt be healed slightly," and therefore I told him plainly the consequences of backsliding, hoping thus to hedge up the way against it.

But instead of this, the sunlight of truth caused these buds upon the house-top to wither and decay -- the resolution of holy obedience had not yet found the good soil of firmness and moral courage to take root in, so as to make it a principle of permanent growth.

But what must now be done? Must he be left as an incor-rigible sinner, past all hope of redemption? My faith said:

"No, try again."

I did try again, and when the next morning he came his usual rounds, and found me sitting in my room quietly sewing with my door wide open, and my room full of patients listen-ing to my conversation for their entertainment, I arose to meet him at the door, and as I extended to him my hand, I said, with a smile:

"Doctor, will you shake hands with me this morning?"

"Oh, yes -- yes -- most certainly."

And at the same time took my hand and while he held it, I remarked in an undertone, with my eyes resting upon his hands:

"Doctor, the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord!"

After gazing at me in amazement for a few seconds, and saying by his manner, "of what kind of material are you composed?" At length he said:

"Why, Mrs. Packard, your book is all safe."

"Of course it is safe, in your hands, Dr. McFarland! "

He then passed on, considering what ground his prisoner had for reposing so much confidence in her keeper, especially after he had proved so untrue and so unmanly to her.

"Is she determined to make me worthy of trust by trusting me?"

Yes, so it was, and as I knew it to be a law of our nature that we are apt to become what we are taken to be. I knew the best way to make a man of this being, was to bestow upon him the trust and confidence of a woman, hoping thus to in-spire again the latent spark of manhood, which was now pass-ing under another eclipse.

The next time when he found me alone in my room, I asked him to sit down and let us talk over matters a little. He did so, and I asked him the question:

"Doctor, which is the most lady-like or Christian-like act; to ruin a person by exposing them without warning -- or to warn them first, and thus give them a chance to escape the exposure by repentance?"

Seeing the self-condemnation the answer involved, he chose silence as the better part of valor this time.

I then tried another question:

"Doctor, which would be the most chivalrous act, for a man to keep his promise to a lady whom he had promised to protect -- or to take a defenseless woman, and by an act of might, lock her up in a room where she could not defend herself at all, and then rob her of all her valuables? Would it be a noble, and manly act, to treat a woman who had never harmed you in this manner? Just make the case your own, Doctor; supposing a man should take you from your office, and lead you into a room and lock you up, and then with secret keys should ransack your valuables, and all your private notes and papers of the greatest value to you, and then claim them as his own -- what would you call such an act? Would you think there was much honor to boast of in that kind of use of the power, might gave him over your rights?"