And Miss Diana, as she passed the shelves, laid her hand caressingly upon the beloved books with a happy smile.  God had sent her the right ones!

CHAPTER XXII.

Marion entered Evadne’s room one glorious winter’s morning and threw herself on the lounge beside her cousin with a sigh.

“I don’t see how you do it!” she exclaimed.

“Do what?” asked Evadne.

“Why, keep so pleasant with Isabelle.  She works me up to the last pitch of endurance, until I feel sometimes as if I should go wild.  It is no use saying anything, Mamma always takes her side, you know, but she does aggravate me so!  Even her movements irritate me,—­just the way she shakes her head and curls her lip,—­she is so self-satisfied.  She thinks no one else knows anything.  It must be a puzzle to her how the world ever got along before she came into it, and what it will do when she leaves it is a mystery!”

“She is good discipline.”

Marion gave her an impetuous hug.  “You dear Evadne!  I believe you take us all as that!  But I don’t think the rest of us can be quite as trying as Isabelle.  She does seem to delight in saying such horrid things.  She was abominably rude to you this morning at breakfast and yet you were just as polite as ever.  I couldn’t have done it.  I should have sulked for a week.  I know you feel it, for I see your lips quiver—­you are as susceptible to a rude touch as a sensitive plant—­but it is beautiful to be able to keep sweet outside.”

“You mean to be kept, Marion,” said Evadne softly, “by the power of God.  I have no strength of my own.”

Marion sighed dismally.  “Oh, dear!  I don’t know what I mean, except that I’m a failure.  It is no wonder Louis thinks Christianity is a humbug, though he must confess there is something in it when he looks at you.  You are so different, Evadne!  I should think Isabelle would be ashamed of herself, for I believe half the time she says things on purpose to provoke you.  She doesn’t seem to get much comfort out of it any way.  I never saw such a discontented mortal.  Don’t you think it is wicked for people to grumble the way she does, Evadne?  It is growing on her, too.  She finds fault with everything.  Even the snow came in for a share of her disapprobation this morning, because it would spoil the skating, as if the Lord had no other plans to further than just to give her an afternoon’s amusement!  She is so self-centered!”

Evadne looked out at the street where the fresh fallen snow had spread a dazzling carpet of virgin white.  “He is going to let me give an afternoon’s amusement to Gretchen and little Hans,” she said.  “Uncle Lawrence has promised me the sleigh and I am going to take them to the Park.  Won’t it be beautiful to see them enjoy!  Hans has never seen the trees after a snowstorm.”

“That is you all over, Evadne.  It is always other people’s pleasure, while I think of my own!  Oh, dear!  I seem to do nothing but get savage and then sigh over it.  I know it is dreadful to talk about my own sister as I have been doing—­they say you ought to hide the faults of your relations—­but it is only to you, you know.  Do you suppose there is any hope for me, Evadne?” she asked disconsolately.