lieved there was good in every man, however vile he might appear; and that goodness is grace, and that a share of this, however small, would insure salvation after death. Thus Jesus, the Redeemer, the Justifier, had no part in his system; for if his theory were carried out, the Saviour had died in vain. The Holy Spirit, the Sanctifier, the Convincer of sin, without whose aid we cannot be led to embrace the truths of the Gospel, was equally unthought of, and his blessed influence unasked, unheeded. No wonder, then, that he ceased to care for religion, and that his life became one continued gratification of his own evil inclinations. Having no care for the future, spurning the call of his Divine Master, "to take up his cross and follow Him," he led a life of ease and pleasure in the pursuit of his own fancies. His was not a life of gross sin, certainly, for he was considered more than usually moral in his pleasures. He was too refined in mind to care for indulgence in the more open and glaring sins which pollute mankind. By nature he was richly endowed with noble qualities; but what are all these in a fallen creature, unless the grace of God renews the heart and reigns there, enabling him to make use of those gifts aright? His amiable character; his warm, generous nature; his talents, which were of the highest order; and above all, his noble sincerity and hatred of everything dishonourable, made him generally much beloved in the circles in which he moved; although occasionally he manifested an impatience and haughtiness which were unaccountable to those who knew not the secret workings of a mind, at times disappointed and unhappy, without knowing from whence such feelings arose. On his return to England when Ada had completed her education, he determined to take some country seat in the North of England. Not meeting with anything quite desirable, and growing weary of the pursuit, he hastily offered a liberal sum for Thurlston, which he had seen in passing through Carysford, and concluded the purchase without much consideration as to the disadvantages it might and did possess ; comforting himself with the thought that he could easily dispose of it again if he did not continue to like it. Ada was pleased at the prospect of quiet and a home, and delighted to be her brother's companion, whose society to her was worth more than all the gay pleasures of London. Her character differed in many respects from his, although they assimilated very much in general tastes; she possessed decidedly less genius, but as much good sense, though sometimes she suffered it to be counteracted by impulses which frequently led her into difficulties which calm consideration would have prevented. She decidedly possessed more genuine religious feeling than her brother, though lamentably ignorant of its saving truths, and thus she lost the power of influence over him which she might otherwise have exercised. Ada would have been grieved not to attend public worship, though she thought little or nothing of the service when there ; so it pained her to see her brother neglecting the performance of such a duty. Finding, however, her endeavours to persuade him were in vain, she began to hope Herbert would marry a woman whose sense of religion might lead him back to the practice of those outward observances, which she regarded as so necessary herself. CHAPTER IV. "Providence is dark in its permissions, yet one day, when all is known, the universe of reason shall acknowledge how just and good were they. "Cease to anticipate misfortune; there are still many chances of escape but if it come, be courageous; face it, and conquer thy calamity."— M. TUPPER. "Days of my age! ye will shortly be past; TUCKER. "I AM going to Sawley on business this afternoon, Ethel, can you go with me?" said Miss Hackett, a few mornings after her party, to her young friend, who was calling upon her. "Laura and I had intended making some calls this afternoon, but it does not much signify, and I should like to go with you very much," replied Ethel. "I am going to remain in Langton about half an hour, so you can stay and see old Nannie if you like, which may be an additional inducement." "Oh, thank you! I had been wishing to see her; but our time has been so much occupied lately I have been unable to visit her. What time shall I be ready for you?" inquired Ethel. "Half-past three. And will you take Minnie with you ?" "With pleasure," said Ethel, as she parted from her old friend. Minnie, however, was in one of her passionate moods when Ethel returned, and refused to repeat her usual lesson, so that Ethel was obliged as a punishment to deny her the pleasure of the drive, and the disgrace accompanying such a deprivation affected Minnie far more than the loss of her pleasure. To supply a mother's place to her little sister, Ethel found no light duty; for Minnie was a child full of quick thought and unique ideas, passionate and wilful, but extremely affectionate, and possessing excellent abilities. While in some things she was a perfect child, in others she seemed to have discernment beyond her years. Ethel's influence over her was very great; in a few moments, by calmness and decision, she could quiet Minnie's paroxysms of passion. But though ever firm in the discharge of her duty towards the child, she was never angry or given to punishing her merely to please herself. Laura, on the contrary, never took the trouble to be kind to her, but for any slight offence she would, on the impulse of the moment, punish her severely. Poor Minnie was perpetually being told how naughty she was by some one or other of the family, until the child would hardly have known the difference between right and wrong if it had not been for Ethel's careful training. Minnie's passion being over, Ethel took her down to dinner, and presently Mr. Woodville came in, in the highest spirits. "I met with an old friend this morning, and I have seldom been more pleased to renew an acquaintance. She is a most charming woman. I promised you girls should call upon her without delay," he said, rubbing his hands in great glee. "And who is this extraordinary person?" inquired Laura, with a somewhat contemptuous smile on her face, which, however, her father did not notice. "Miss Grant. She used to be an old flame of mine; at least I had a sort of flirtation with her once. She really is a very pleasant woman, and has a nice snug fortune, too. I am quite delighted to find she has determined on remaining in Carysford this winter. It will be a great advantage to you both to have her for a friend and counsellor." The blood had rushed to Ethel's face the moment Mr. Woodville mentioned Miss Grant's name, and it only deepened in dye as he proceeded. She made no reply, but fixed her eyes quietly on her father, and he shrunk from meeting them. "Well, Ethel?" he said, impatiently. "I believed-I fancied she was not quite so nice a person," she said, hesitatingly. "Pray, what do you know against her?" inquired Mr. Woodville, shortly. "I have heard my mother speak of her.” Enough of that, Ethel!" was the angry reply. "Your poor, dear mother, was the most prejudiced person I ever met in my life. She had nothing really objectionable to say against Miss Grant, but she used to take most unaccountable dislikes sometimes, and fancy herself injured." "Mamma never did wrong in her life!" burst from Harry's lips. 66 Silence, sirrah!" exclaimed Mr. Woodville. |