had spoken. It was of her momentary doubt, not of her trust, that she felt ashamed.

And indeed, Dr. Henderson and his wife proved faithful, helpful friends to lonely Claudia Lisle. She could not but wonder gratefully at the constant and sympathizing solicitude which from the first they evinced for her father and herself, strangers as they were. That they were strangers, poor and in trouble, might, it is true, have been a sufficient passport to the ready interest of the Doctor at any time. For he was one of those who so benevolently and unselfishly pursue that vocation which perhaps more than any other brings its professors in contact with varied kinds of human trial, that we are bound to regard it as one of the most blessedly privileged by which a Christian may work out his Master's teaching. The opportunity of aiding another was never voluntarily suffered by him to escape. The knowledge of this poor pale girl's need of friends would doubtless have been enough, therefore, to make both himself and his wife desirous to be of use to her. But besides this, Mr. Trenant's letter arrived, to give especial strength and earnestness to the interest already existing in their kind hearts for the poor invalid East Indian and his daughter.

Not till long afterwards, however, did Claudia know of this hidden moving spring which caused

the general benevolence and kindliness of these good people to be so particular and especial with regard to herself and her father. And continually their thoughtful solicitude, their generous, considerate kindness, took her by surprise. But she soon learned to accept it all quite naturally and unquestioningly. She did not seek to comprehend. It was enough for her to try and be fitly grateful for this infinite and unexpected blessing. Like stepping on dry land after shipwreck,-like coming into a warm room after a long journey in cold, rain, and storm,-like anything, in short, that is most soothing and healing and comforting, was to poor Claudia this new sense of having friends near her, to help her with counsel and sympathy.

They helped her in all ways. Guided by them, she removed her father into summer lodgings which they found for her. They even obtained her some pupils, in the children of a retired bourgeois living near, who came to her for two or three hours every day. It was in this mode Claudia Lisle began to put in practice her aspirations of long ago towards working for her living.

Later, when the approaching autumn brought the usual throng of sojourners, and they returned to their old abode in the town, she found more pupils through Mrs. Henderson's influence. She was quite busy then-and found a wonderful solace in being

So. For humble-in comparison to what she had been wont to imagine as her work in the world— as was this occupation of teaching music to little girls, it is a fact that all true and earnest "working" bears with it that charm of self-forgetfulness which is in itself one element of happiness; and doubtless it helped her to maintain her courage and her cheerfulness day by day, week by week, as nothing else could have done.

And thus had passed the months with her, since the ominous beginning of the year. Two or three brief and hurried letters from Harry came at uncertain intervals, each bringing that exquisite solace of temporary relief which only they can know who suffer under the heavy burden of suspense. And Phrasie wrote constantly, and sent her all the latest news she could get her brother to collect at the Horse Guards. Once or twice also came little letters from Eve; one written-just after the tidings of the mutiny-in a passion of tender trouble and fond sympathy, that made Claudia's heart yearn over her with a strange sense of sweetness and of pathos.

Except for these links to the old life, it might almost have seemed to her that she had altogether drifted out of it. The very strangeness of this different life was growing familiar to her now ;—with the dreary familiarity of an unloved routine that goes on-and on-without a hope of change.

CHAPTER VII.

STILLNESS AND STORM.

PERHAPS we seldom recognize either our blessings or our misfortunes at first sight. The angels of discipline and difficulty sometimes come to us in radiant vesture from which the light soon seems to us to fade. The pathway bordered with flowers, which looks so pleasant and so safe, often leads through much entanglement into but a dreary wilderness at last. For our consolation, let us remember the converse truth. The sad-eyed, dark-robed visitant was an angel whom we entertained unawares; and the gloomy way-rough to the feet and shadowy to the sight-led us to where we found healing and comfort and peace. As a quaint old English writer has said, no less truly than sweetly, "We do often kiss those troubles at parting, which we met with trembling." And thus Claudia had floated through the very channel that threatened most peril, into comparatively calm waters-into something like a haven of rest.

VOL. II.

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Her new pupils were English-the younger children of a large family who inhabited a pleasant villa close by. The Suttons were wealthy, kindhearted, homely people,-nothing more. A year and a half ago Miss Lisle would have summarily dismissed their claims to notice with the trenchant verdict"commonplace." Perhaps they were; but then there are some human qualities, "common" as the flowers by the wayside, for which when the road is barren we are very thankful; and then perhaps learn for the first time that there is an element of beauty even in them.

Claudia was grateful for the friendly goodwill which these people took pains to show her and her father-especially she valued and was touched by any attention to him. And old Mr. Sutton, the grandfather of the family and a valetudinarian himself, actually "got on" wonderfully well with the languid East Indian, and constantly came to play backgammon with him, or invited him to join their nightly whist-table. It was an unexpected relief to Claudia to see her father roused from his habitual indifference, and appear to take a dignified pleasure in this interchange of visits. He was thirty years younger than his new acquaintance, but they had much in common; not only in tastes and preudices, but in physical weakness and inactivity,

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