“Lydia,” she said, “the Son of God died for us all, for you and for me, but he was then in the form of man.  He died that we might live; he never will die again.  He rose from the dead, and is in heaven, at the right hand of God.  He loves you, because you think about him.”

“He don’t love me like he do Miss Alice, ’kase she’s so white,” said Lydia.

“He loves all who love him,” said Miss Janet, “whether they are black or white.  Be a good child, and he will surely love you.  Be kind and obliging to everybody; be industrious and diligent in all you have to do; obey your mother and father, and your master.  Be truthful and honest.  God hates a liar, and a deceitful person.  He will not take care of you and love you, unless you speak the truth.  Sometimes you try to deceive me.  God will not be your friend if you deceive any one.  And now go to your mother, she will put you to bed.”

Lydia made a curtsey, and said, “Good-night, ma’am.”  She went to Mrs. Weston, and bade her good-night too.  Then turning toward Alice, she gazed wonderingly at her pale face.

“Is you got de headache now, Miss Alice?”

“Not much,” said Alice, gently.

“Good night, miss,” said Lydia, with another curtesy, and she softly left the room.  “Oh, mammy,” she said, as she entered her mother’s cabin, “Miss Janet say, if I’m a good child, God will love me much as he loves Miss Alice, if I is black.  Miss Alice is so white to-night; you never see’d her look as white as she do to-night.”

* * * * *

Mr. Weston alighted from his horse, and hurried to the sitting-room, “Have you waited tea for me?” he said.  “Why did you do so?  Alice, darling, is your head better?”

“A great deal, uncle,” said Alice.  “Have you had a pleasant ride?”

“Yes; but my child, you look very sick.  What can be the matter with you?  Anna, did you send for the doctor?”

“No—­Alice objected so.”

“But you must send for him—­I am sure she is seriously ill.”

“There is nothing the matter with me, but a headache,” said Alice.  “After tea, I will go to bed, and will be well in the morning.”

“God grant you may, my sweet one.  What has come over you?”

“Tea is ready,” said Cousin Janet.  “Let us go in to it, and then have prayers, and all go to bed early.  Why Cousin Weston, you are getting quite dissipated in your old age; coming home to tea at this hour; I suppose I shall begin such practices next.”

Miss Janet’s suggestion of retiring early, was followed.  Phillis came in to see how Alice’s head was, and recommended brown paper and vinegar.  She made no comment on her appearance, but did not wonder that Lydia was struck with the expression of her countenance.  There was an uneasiness that was foreign to it; not merely had the glow of health departed, there was something in its place, strange there.  It was like the storm passing over the beautiful lake; the outline of rock, and tree, and surface, is to be seen, but its tranquil beauty is gone; and darkness and gloom are resting where has been the home of light, and love, and beauty.