"I didn't say I would ask you," said she. Mr. Evans's face clouded over, so Eliza added—

"But why not you, as well as another. I ain't a going so far away but I shall see you sometimes, if you should happen to be taking an evening walk up the Castle way."

By this Mr. Evans understood that he might come up to see Eliza at the Castle in the evenings, of which permission he fully intended to avail himself.

CHAPTER V.

PARADISE.

"Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one
Have limits to its mercy: God has none."

MARGARET CLEVEDON felt the loss of her cousin Eleanor in her daily life much more than her mother did. The two girls had been constant companions ever since childhood, so that, now she was gone, Margaret was very lonely.

At first Mrs. Stuart's illness, with the anxiety and constant watching it occasioned, prevented Margaret from fully realizing her position; little family ways and arrangements, too, had not returned to their ordinary routine till Mrs. Stuart got better. Now, however, that her aunt had so far recovered as to take her usual place in the family, and Eliza Davies was settled into her duties as constant companion and attendant upon her, Margaret found out how changed her life was, and she began to look round for something to occupy her for the few months that

must still elapse before Captain Stuart should return from India.

Margaret had begun to see that life was not all as bright as she had once thought it; the conversation with old Mrs. Wynter had more than once returned to her mind, when she had been sitting at night watching her aunt, or reading to her when she got better. She had not only thought about it, but she had searched over the pages of her Bible as to how she should please God, for she felt daily more the truth of what the old lady had said, that her life was not her own to do as she chose with, irrespective of her Maker.

With this knowledge there came, too, a consciousness of her own ignorance and uselessness.

One day, when she had been reading the parable of the labourers in the vineyard, in St. Matthew, where some stood so long idle in the market-place, the desire came into her heart to help to make God's will known upon earth, if in but a very humble and quiet way.

By one of those strange coincidences of which our lives are full, Margaret took up a small book from her aunt's table, which had been lately sent to her by a friend. It was called "Songs of the People," by Alan Brodrick. As Margaret turned over the leaves listlessly, wondering at some of the naturetouches in the little poems, her eye caught the following lines:

I.

"Master!

I was standing idle in the market-place

When he came ;

I had but to look upon His glorious face

For his name.

II.

I did not ask, Who art thou? for I well knew

'Wilt thou not help me?' I have so much to do ;

Let me die.

IV.

I fell down in mine anguish, kissing his feet

Full of shame.

He, stooping, raised me up, and whispered sweet

My new name.

V.

'My servant, fear not?'

Then we went together
O'er the moor;

I felt not driving sleet or bitter weather,

Very poor,

VI.

Yet very rich, for He unlocked iron time

With His key,

We heard the far-off city's golden bells chime,

No more sea!

VII.

'Wilt thou be my servant evermore, ?'

'Evermore.'

'Shall I find thee idle 'mid the market's roar?'

'Never more!

0 my Master, never more, no, never more.'

Margaret read them twice over, and then laid the book down with a heavy sigh.

"I wish The Master' would come and call me," thought she; "I am standing idle in the marketplace."

Margaret did not then think that she was being called, and that her very wish showed that she was listening to the call, answering, as once did a very sweet little servant, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." Not in words, but by her earnest desire to be in God's hand, with no will of her own, but to do and suffer His will.

Presently Margaret turned to her Bible again, and there she found about " visiting the widow and the fatherless," and about the holy women who made garments for the poor. Then she remembered about the cup of cold water given to a disciple, and the words, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto Me."

The very next time John Wynter called at the Castle, Margaret asked him to find her some sick people to visit, and some work to do in the parish.

Now when Margaret made her request to the