termined about: I will not stay at home; I will go out as a governess; I will do something-beg my bread. sooner than stay at home to be treated in this manner, or be made to submit to her," exclaimed Laura, impetuously. "Hush, dear Laura!" said Ethel, soothingly; and then, when the tempest of rage had a little subsided, she added gently: "We must remember who sends these trials, and that God always has a good end in view by them, dear Laura. The Bible tells us, that no chastening is pleasant at first, but that "afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby." If it is right for us, some way of escape will be made. If not, this trial, I have no doubt, is a blessing in disguise. Do you remember those beautiful lines of Longfellow's you read me the other day? 'Let us be patient. These severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapours Amid these earthly damps: What seem to us but sad funereal tapers May be Heaven's distant lamps.'" "Ah, Ethel, poetry is very beautiful when we are happy! and it is all very well, too, to read of patient people, and weep in novels over imaginary trials; but when they touch ourselves, then the romance is gone, there is no beauty left in things that once charmed us,” replied Laura, sadly. "I grant it may be so to some extent. But oh, Laura, if you knew how the Bible cheers and consoles me; and how I feel and know there is a God-man in heaven! One who has a body and feelings like ourselves!-who has known and tasted earthly sorrow, and drunk the most bitter cup of earthly suffering that was ever tasted, and that that Friend is waiting and listening for every prayer that his people offer him is there not a solid comfort in this thought?" "Yes, there is to Christians, no doubt! You understand it; but I have no Friend in heaven," replied Laura, in a subdued tone. "But you may have one. Only tell Jesus you wish him to love you, and you will find him 'all in all."" "But I cannot now! I can think of nothing but my trouble. I cannot pray as I ought," replied Laura, after a pause. "But bring the trouble itself to the Saviour; that is what he likes us to do. He will share with you in bearing it," replied Ethel, gently. Again Laura's head drooped on her sister's shoulder; and at length quiet tears began to pour plentifully down her face, like the refreshing rain after the violence of the storm which precedes it. For once Laura felt there was a pleasure in having a kind, loving sister to compassionate her wounded feelings, and she saw how religion had enabled Ethel to bear this trial so patiently. True it is of the believer, his light does not always shine so brightly in the sunshine of happiness, as in the dark nights of adversity. Like the three hundred who followed Gideon, their lights were hid until the time of trial arrived; but no sooner were their pitchers broken, than the lights in their lamps shone forth. So with the Christian. Adversity bursts the veil of concealment which has hitherto enshrouded his light, and when that veil has been removed the world takes knowledge of him that he has been with Jesus. Nothing else could enable him so effectually to fight the good fight of faith, and, overcoming all obstacles, patiently endure to the end. CHAPTER XIV. "Love never fails to master what he finds, "How sweet it is DRYDEN. To have one lovely treasure, which the heart MISS LANDON. "So I suppose it's all come out at last!" exclaimed Sally, bursting into the room next morning after breakfast, in a state of violent excitement, and appealing to Ethel, who was hearing Minnie her lesson. "What do you mean, Sally ?" inquired Ethel, raising her pale face. "You may well look pale and careworn, dear heart," said Sally, commiseratingly; then, seeing Minnie's eyes fixed inquisitively upon her, she added quickly, "Run and play with t' parrot, dear Miss Minnie! I'll come presently." Minnie instantly disappeared. "What do I mean, Miss Hethel? Why this fond, rediclus idee of t' master's to marry that (I beg pardon, but I can't say nowt but) woman. Miss Laura telled me all about it when I went up wi' her breakfast this morning. Poor barn! I did pity her; honly you're like t' one as 'll feel it t' most. However, my 'pinion has come to pretty sharp-I donnut know who to give warning to in partic'lar, so I'll do it to t' master, Miss Laura, and you, to make sure, Miss Hethel. The day afore that woman enters this house, I leaves it I'll not stay for no one-I've lived here twenty years and better, and I hallus thought to die here: but if I'd been fifty, and she offered me a hundred i' t' year, I'd not stay. I'm fair shamed of t' master. T' grass hardly growed over my poor missis' grave, afore he goes gallavanting and flurting with a body as ought to know better nor to let him! I sure t' world's come to a pretty state when such as her is to be set i̇' your mother's place." 66 Sally, you must remember you ought to speak respectfully of whoever my father chooses to make his wife," Ethel said, gently. "I can't help saying it, and so it don't mind," said Sally, bursting into tears. Ethel laid her hand on the faithful servant's arm. "Sally, you have been a good and kind servant and friend to us; you loved my mother-will you not, for her sake, stay with her children? She would have wished it, I am sure, could she have foreseen this. I do not know what we should do without you." Sally sobbed aloud. "I hallus loved you, Miss Hethel! You was hallus a nice child, for all you was a bit proud some→ times. But it's fair unpossible I could stay here; I'd make nothink but worry and trouble if I did. I never could bide to receive horders from that woman, she as I know hated your sweet mother, for I used to hear a deal o' things she said, through her maid, years sin, |