"She is very grave, very silent, and almost always reading."

66

6

Reading! And what are her subjects?" "Oh, I don't know; some great dry-looking book or another. The Pilgrim's Progress,' perhaps, or the 'Whole Duty of Man,' or the Bi-."” Hush, hush, Cuthbert," I said, for I guessed

66

the word he was about to utter.

"Well-what's the matter now, old birdie? How solemn you look with your fore-finger stuck up.

"I feared you were about to speak lightly of our most Sacred Volume."

66

Oh, you dear old Methodist," he laughed. "I'm sure I cannot think how you can go on reading that Bible of yours as you do, over and over again. 'What so tedious as a twice told

tale' is quite a Proverb, you know."

"Because, dear Cuthbert, I never open that Holy Book without finding fresh comfort, fresh beauties, fresh instruction in every page. As the lightning flashes in upon a darkened chamber, so does the Light of Life break in upon and irradiate our darkened souls as we study it. Oh, my own darling brother, if you could but see it thus! You do not try to take an interest in this most precious gift of God to man."

I don't know how I came to say so much on a subject on which I knew he so differed with me, but I felt carried away by its importance in my great love and sorrow that my dear brother, with all his excellent qualities, should go on lacking the "one thing needful." It was like a stately vessel, otherwise fully appointed, but without a pilot, drifting onwards, all unprepared, towards some fatal and hidden rock.

I am sure I little thought, when we sat down, that our conversation would have taken so grave a turn, but, with all his merry thoughtless ways, Cuthbert never seemed annoyed at anything I said, so that I often endeavoured to lead his mind into a train of serious thought, without pointedly pressing it on his notice, in the humble hope that, even one so unqualified as myself, might perhaps be permitted to scatter a few crumbs on the waters, to be found again after many days.

My brother had remained silent and apparently attentive, his head leaning on his hand, and idly playing with his fork. Twilight had gathered round us and still we sat on, seemingly unwilling to return to our usual occupations. Presently he rose, and coming round to where I was, stooped down and kissed my forehead.

66

Maggie," he said, with a little short laugh, "do you think your brother an Infidel?"

"God forbid," I exclaimed. "Oh, no, no; such an idea never entered into my mind."

"Neither is he, although he may not be able to believe all that his good old sister does, and so he can never be half so good and happy, as she is with her unenquiring simple faith!"

"Oh, indeed, indeed, he can, he must, and far far better and wiser too than she can ever be," I cried.

"When he can pin his faith on all the improbabilities she does, but not before," he said. "The day will come, my brother."

CHAPTER II.

"THE ACCIDENT. "

THE autumn of that year was a mild and pleasant one: we had experienced but few of those foggy, drizzling days, so prejudicial to persons not in robust health, and, to my brother's great satisfaction, Henry Wilson had hitherto escaped any very decided attack of illness, so that his treatment, so far, appeared successful, and, although our first interview with the family had ripened before the end of September into what I may fairly call intimacy, I had as yet never had an opportunity of seeing the poor lad prostrated by a regular attack of illness. His dear sister too was looking much better, and was decidedly stronger, so that we three used frequently to accompany Cuthbert some distance when on his rounds to visit patients.

Mrs. Wilson seemed to take a pleasure in our

society, which was very gratifying. She often expressed her conviction that Cuthbert understood her son's case better than either of the other doctors, and said that she confided him entirely to his management; but, notwithstanding the present calm, Cuthbert told her she must not be disappointed if Henry should again have one or two of his seizures before perfect recovery; indeed, it was what he himself expected, but begged she would not alarm herself, should such be the case, as it was not likely he would be perfectly restored to health without an occasional recurrence of them at distant intervals.

One evening-the evenings were closing in sadly, for it could not have been more than six o'clock, but quite dusky-I was walking along the lane leading down by the Church-yard, when I heard feet pattering behind me, and, turning round, I saw a little fellow panting and quite out of breath, making signs for me to stop for him.

“Oh miss, oh miss!" he exclaimed as soon as he could speak, "it's the doctor we want, miss; where's the doctor, miss?"

"I don't know if he is in, my man," I said. "Let's make haste and see," and we both ran towards the surgery, where he luckily was.