unsparing one, too. Nevertheless you interest me, Beauchamp," said Raymond.

"I am glad to hear it."

"You must not think to make a convert of me; though interested in argument, I am not convinced. You have brought forward no proofs of revelation yet."

"I am aware of that.

But if you will dine with me this evening, I will readily resume the subject with you."

"Are you quite alone?"

"Yes. My father is out of town, and my sisters will be from home."

"I have an engagement for the Opera this evening, but I can spend a couple of hours with you, if you like."

"I shall be glad of your company at dinner at seven then, and that will be early enough not to interfere with your engagement, if you still wish to keep it; but I confess, I wonder you should frequent places in which you find no pleasure, even by your own account."

66

'Simply because one must do something. I find it insupportably monotonous to be alone, and having no interest in life I must employ myself to prevent being bored to death with ennui."

Beauchamp looked deeply pained.

"And could no other interest be found than mere amusement? Suppose you began now and made diligent search into the truth of God's word; read diligently all you could on the subject: can you think it right to leave one stone unturned to find the truth? Is it not your bounden duty to 'prove all things,' to search and see whether these things be so or not?"

"It may be; but I have no heart for such an undertaking. I go to the Opera because there is neither thought nor trouble connected with it. Theological study would require both. One idea absorbs me: night and day I know no rest! I do not suppose I could pay attention to any deep reading at present."

“And yet, professing earnest love for a Christian, you will not even rouse yourself to inquire into the source of her happiness! Raymond! I had expected better things from you. You seem to have lost all energy, and all care for everything, either temporal or spiritual; and believe me, this lethargy is not entirely resulting from disappointment. I will be perfectly sincere with you. Wounded pride is at the bottom of this indifference. I see you do not like the doctrines of the Bible; the meek and lowly Saviour himself is too humble to be your king. Like the Jews of old, your feeling is, 'We will not have this man to reign over us.' The road is too narrow for you—the thorns in it annoy you; you run in the broad path, because it seems the easiest; but remember, the end thereof is death.' Some darling and cherished sacrifices must be made, or you cannot be Christ's disciple. You desire to wallow in the impurities of the world, and your heart refuses to leave all these pollutions and follow Him: this is the grand secret, I am convinced."

"You may settle it so in your own mind if you like, Beauchamp: you may be correct; but I cannot say I think you are. I believe we often don't know our own motives for things. But all seems to me to proceed from the trial I have undergone. However, I suppose there is a truce to argument for a few hours, as we must look out in this crowd," replied Raymond,

for they had begun once more to thread their way among the busy thoroughfares of the metropolis; and they soon after separated— Herbert to spend an hour with Ada; Beauchamp to attend a meeting of a Ragged School Committee in the City, in which he was deeply interested.

VOL. I.

сс

CHAPTER XXV.

"There is a tongue in every leaf, a voice in every rill; A voice that speaketh everywhere, in flood, and fire, through earth and air;

A tongue that's never still.

'Tis the great Spirit wide diffused through everything we see, That with our spirits communeth of things mysterious-life and death,

Time and eternity."-ANON.

"I've had a regular sermon from your friend Beauchamp," said Herbert, throwing himself on a couch in his sister's boudoir, on his return from his ride. He had not observed the agitated flush of indignation which glowed on Ada's cheeks as he entered. A letter fell from her hands as he spoke, but she gave no reply, and raising his eyes he saw her look of annoyance.

"What is the matter, dear Ada?"

"I feel insulted by the contents of that letter," she said, her eyes sparkling with indignation.

"Insulted! Who dare

grily, springing to his feet.

?" said Herbert, an

"You may read it," she said, laconically, as she reached the letter to him, which her brother perused eagerly.

Your

"And pray, where is the insult, Ada? prejudices gain sadly too much ascendancy over you.

Morton has paid you the highest compliment a man can pay to a lady, by offering you his hand and heart," replied Raymond, coldly.

"And you would encourage him?" inquired Ada, indignantly.

"No, certainly not. I should not wish to see you

married to him: that alters the case.'

"And you consider it a compliment to receive an offer from a notoriously bad man and an infidel—a man whose whole fortune, as I have been informed, is almost gone in his gambling debts—a man who wishes for my fortune to continue his abominable practices— a man who has no love for me whatsoever, and whose proposal is only the result of selfish motives? How dare he suppose I would accept him; and after he has seen how I have avoided and discouraged him on every occasion? I do consider it insulting that he should suppose me capable of such want of principle as to unite myself to him," exclaimed Ada, with flashing eyes.

"Pray calm yourself, Ada, before you speak of your brother's friend in such abhorrent terms. I feel bound to say, I think any man who proposes to a lady, whatever he may be, deserves lady-like treatment at her hands. Besides, as I before said, he is my friend, which ought to weigh with you," said Herbert, almost sternly.

"More the pity, Herbert! I have watched in agony your acquaintance with him. I have seen how like a serpent he has been coiling his loathsome and insidious doctrines round you, crushing your remaining religious principle, poisoning your soul, and blinding your eyes to all that is pure and holy. How can I speak calmly of him?" exclaimed Ada, bitterly.

"And this is the way Christians display their