Mrs. Dodd retired, with her usual tact and
self-denial.

Then Jane Hardie, being alone with her friend,
and full of sorrow, sympathy, and faith, found
words of eloquence almost divine to raise her.

With these pious consolations Julia's pride
and self-respect now co-operated; relieved of her
great terror, she felt her insult to her fingers'
ends: "I'll never degrade myself so far as to pine
for another lady's lover," she said. "I'll resume
my duties in another sphere, and try to face the
world by degrees. I am not quite alone in it: I
have my mother still—and my Redeemer."

Some tears forced their way at these brave,
gentle words. Jane gave her time.

Then she said: "Begin by putting on your
bonnet, and visiting with me. Come with one
who is herself thwarted in the carnal affections;
come with her and see how sick some are, and
we two in health; how racked with pain some
are, and we two at ease; how hungry some, and
we have abundance; and, above all, in what
spiritual deserts some lie, while we walk in the
gospel light."

"Oh that I had the strength," said Julia; "I'll
try."

She put on her bonnet, and went down with
her friend: but at the street door the strange
feeling of shame overpowered her: she blushed,
and trembled, and begged to substitute the garden
for the road. Jane consented, and said everything
must have a beginning.

The fresh air, the bursting buds, and all the
face of nature, did Julia good; and she felt it:
''You little angel," said she, with something of
her old impetuosity, "you have saved me. I was
making myself worse by shutting myself up in
that one miserable room."

They walked hand in hand for a good half hour,
and then Jane said she must go: papa would miss
her. Julia was sorry to part with her, and almost
without thinking accompanied her through the
house to the front gate; and that was another
point gained. "I never was so sorry to part with
you, love," said she. "When will you come again?
We leave to-morrow. I am selfish to detain
you; but it seems as if my guardian angel was
leaving me."

Jane smiled. "I must go," said she, "but
I'll leave better angels than I am behind me.
I leave you this: 'Humble yourself under the
mighty hand of God!' When it seems most
harsh, then it is most loving. Pray for faith to
say with me, 'Lead us by a way that we know
not.'"

They kissed one another, and Julia stood at
the gate and looked lovingly after her, with the
tears standing thick in her own violet eyes.

Now Maxley was coming down the road, all
grizzly and bloodshot, baited by the boys, who
had gradually swelled in number as he drew
nearer the town.

Jane was shocked at their heathenish cruelty,
and went off the path to remonstrate with
them.

On this, Maxley fell upon her, and began
beating her about the head and shoulders with
his heavy stick.

The miserable boys uttered yells of dismay,
but did nothing.

Julia uttered a violent scream, but flew to her
friend's aid, and crying, "Oh you wretch! you
wretch!" actually caught the man by the throat
and shook him violently: he took his hand off
Jane Hardie, who instantly sank moaning on the
ground, and he cowered like a cur at the voice
and the purple gleaming eyes of the excited
girl.

The air filled with cries, and Edward ran out
of the house to see what was the matter; but
on the spot nobody was game enough to come
between the furious man and the fiery girl. The
consequence was her impetuous courage began
to flag, and her eye to waver; the demented man
found this out by some half animal instinct, and
instantly caught her by the shoulder and whirled
her down on her knees: then raised his staff
high to destroy her.

She screamed, and was just putting up her
hands, woman-like, not to see her death as well
as feel it, when something dark came past her
like a rushing wind, a blow, that sounded exactly
like that of a paving ram, caught Maxley on the
jaw; and there was Edward Dodd blowing like
a grampus with rage, and Maxley on his back
in the road; but men under cerebral excitement
are not easily stunned, and know no pain: he
bounded off the ground, and came at Edward
like a Spanish bull. Edward slipped aside, and
caught him another ponderous blow that sent
him staggering, and his bludgeon flew out of his
hand, and Edward caught it; lo! the maniac
flew at him again more fiercely than ever: but
the young Hercules had seen Jane bleeding
on the ground: he dealt her assailant in full
career such a murderous stroke with the
bludgeon, that the people, who were running
from all quarters, shrieked with dismay, not for
Jane, but for Maxley; and well they might: that
awful stroke laid him senseless, motionless, and
mute, in a pool of his own blood.

"Don't kill him, sir; don't kill the man," was
the cry.

"Why not?" said Edward sternly. He
then kneeled over his sweetheart and lifted
her in his arms like a child. Her bonnet
was all broken, her eyes were turned upwards
and set, and a little blood trickled down her
cheek; and that cheek seemed streaked white
and red.

He was terrified, agonised; yet he gasped out,
"You are safe, dear, don't be frightened."

She knew the voice.

"Oh, Edward!" she said, piteously and
tenderly: and then moaned a little on his broad
bosom. He carried her into the house out of
the crowd.

The poor old doctor, coming in to end his
days in the almshouse, had seen it all: he got
out of his cart and hobbled up. He had been