understood the nature of his affection, though he did not know it then himself; he soon found what you said was true, and he admires and respects you tenfold, and he wished me to tell you he knew he was quite sure of your sympathy in our love for one another! O! how strange it seems, how much has happened since this time yesterday! Life has so changed; it was bright enough then, but now how immeasurably brighter!" and the happy girl wept tears of joy.

Grace drew May towards the window, and throwing her arm around her, she spoke words of tenderest sympathy, and love,—words which fell very sweetly into the heart so full of its new-found gladness. Of course Grace did not get out that morning; Florence and Maud took their walk alone, while she spent a quiet hour with May, hearing all the details of her happy engagement.

Papa and mamma are very glad, I'm sure," said May, "but they say they cannot think of my leaving them for a long, long time; of course we have no thought of being married for ever so many years! If Mr Wheeler comes home, as we expect, in August, Henry will look out for another living, and it will take a long time to settle everything. O! Grace to think God should give me such a good, earnest, faithful man for my husband. One I can reverence with my whole being; how he will help me! The very thought of his love for me makes me long to be

better, and somehow it all seems to bring me nearer

"Yes, darling," said Grace musingly, "a true affection will always do this; nothing so purifies and strengthens us as love, when that love be-as your's and Mr St George's is the union of hearts one in the Lord."

Grace," said May, a few minutes later, "what is your highest standard of true love?"

The far-off look was in Grace's eyes as she answered softly, "Christ and the Church."

CHAPTER XX.

A LETTER AND A WORD.

"Life to the vain alone is vanity,

But to the wise it is the precious bulb
That effloresces into perfectness.

Life is to thee but what thou art to it.

Live then so,

That earth shall be to thee heaven's corridor,

The ante-room of bliss

Life is no pastoral; the EARNEST live,
And they alone!"

IT was a sultry evening in July. Grace had had a somewhat weary day, spending the morning with an invalid, just recovering from low fever-a young girl whose aunt had for many years kept the village school-and the afternoon at the Gotthelby Workhouse. A little worn, both physically and mentally, she went to see old Mrs Morrison, to be "refreshed." Florence and Maud Winton had returned home, and Mrs Sullivan was spending the evening with a friend, hence Grace was quite alone. There was no need to tell Mrs Morrison the object of her visit: she read it at once.

"You must take care of yourself these hot days,” she said gently, "the spirit is willing, but the flesh— think of the poor flesh, dearie," and the old lady shook her head mournfully.

Then, placing Grace in a chair, and removing her sun hat-the old lady was full of these little thoughtful attentions-she resumed her seat, and chatted away in her own peculiar style, amusing and feeding her visitor by turns.

"Ah! how things go on happening," she said after a few moments' pause, " who would have thought that little sunbeam, Miss May, could find her way into the heart of that grave and thoughtful Mr St George! And yet it's not strange, the child has grown so good of late, her character has so deepened. She is not conscious of the change, but my old heart has taken it all in. Ah! dearie, I have watched over you all with great anxiety since life began to be life to you. You're only babes, till you begin to think, and then everything depends upon how you think. You've got your bricks and mortar ready, what kind of a house will you build? Shall it be firm and substantial, not much to look at, but sure to stand, or will it be all walls, and roof, and showy corners, with no inside, only a shell, though fair enough to passers-by? I'm an old woman now, and can look back long years, and see young girls with joyous hearts and sunny faces, changed into cold-souled women of the world. I can see the once so fair and promising daughters,

I can see the

now vain and frivolous mothers. accomplished and gifted, of whom much was hoped and expected years ago, settling down into ordinary and half-hearted women, and I have learnt in all this, to understand that only those who have consecrated themselves wholly to the Lord, are the happy and the blest. In His keeping, their hearts expand, and their life grows daily more beautiful and joyous; like ministering angels they bring gladness to all around them, and they exercise a healthy, holy influence in the world; but apart from Him, the largest heart contracts, the sweetest natures become soured, the happiest mind dis-satisfied, and the noblest soul robbed of half its greatness and power. I have often feared for Miss May, and others of like nature; that their joyousness of spirit, and lives so free from care, might lead them to be satisfied with what they had, rather than to hunger after that which heaven can alone supply. Youth is so full of hope and buoyancy, that it would be like trying to teach a babe mathematics, to impress upon its mind the fact that

"The spider's most attenuated thread

Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie

To earthly bliss-it breaks at every breeze."

"Yes! I'm old now, and I can say this, that it's the outside life and profession of people that time wears away; it cannot hurt the inside life, it only deepens and strengthens that. I've had many a heart-ache for Mr St George's sister-she feeds her mind and