Miss Mason's ponderings were... almost familiar, to Malachi, in the sense that he'd pondered similar things himself over the course of his life. Not for very long, if he could help it, but some things would not be eternally quieted.

"I'm certain that you will," Malachi assured in spite of himself. The blanket fell away from the lady's shoulders, and one of his hands went to reach for it before he hesitated. There was always a tiny chill that swept through the church in the later hours of the day, but what if the blanket felt constricting?

Then again, what if it could give at least some small comfort?

Malachi lifted the blanket. As gently as he could, he pulled it back over her shoulders, and for a moment his hands held the ends where they met beneath her chin. Even her eyes held that same beautiful gloom.

"Whether Miss Harlowe liked you or not, you are still deserving of love."

His fingers slipped free from the blanket, returned to fold habitually on his lap.

"It might be hard to see now, while you're surrounded by tragedies, but the Lord provides a path for everyone to walk out of the storm. And for having made it through, you will know that you are worth more than what your father, or the lawyer, or Miss Harlowe ever gave you."