Her journey, and her arrival, and Abbie, and the newness and
strangeness of everything around her, had banished all thought of
sleep. So she went over in detail everything which had occurred that
day but persistently her thoughts returned to the question which
had so startled her, coming from the lips of a stranger, and to the
singleness of heart which seemed to possess her Cousin Abbie.
"_Was_ she a fellow-pilgrim after all?" she queried. If so, what
caused the difference between Abbie and herself. It was but a few
hours since she first beheld her cousin; and yet she distinctly
_felt_ the difference between them in that matter. "We are as unlike,"
thought Ester, turning restlessly on her pillow. "Well, as unlike as
two people can be."
What _would_ Abbie say could she know that it was actually months
since Ester had read as much connectedly in her Bible as she had heard
read that evening? Yes, Ester had gone backward, even as far as that!
Farther! What would Abbie say to the fact that there were many, many
prayerless days in her life? Not very many, perhaps, in which she had
not used a form of prayer; but their names were legion in which she
had risen from her knees unhelped and unrefreshed; in which she knew
that she had not _prayed_ a single one of the sentences which she had
been repeating.
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