ment I felt at this. She coloured up for a
moment, and then proceeded to explain herself.

"In my poor mother's lifetime," she went
on, " her friends were not always my friends,
too. Now I have lost her, my heart turns for
comfort to the people she liked. She liked
you. Try to be friends with me, Drusilla, if
you can."

To any rightly-constituted mind, the motive
thus acknowledged was simply shocking. Here
in Christian England was a young woman in a
state of bereavement, with so little idea of
where to look for true comfort, that she
actually expected to find it among her mother's
friends! Here was a relative of mine, awakened
to a sense of her shortcomings towards others,
under the influence, not of conviction and duty,
but of sentiment and impulse! Most deplorable
to think of—but, still, suggestive of something
hopeful, to a person of my experience in plying
the good work. There could be no harm, I
thought, in ascertaining the extent of the change
which the loss of her mother had wrought in
Rachel's character. I decided, as a useful
test, to probe her on the subject of her
marriage engagement to Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite.

Having first met her advances with all
possible cordiality, I sat by her on the sofa, at her
own request. We discussed family affairs and
future plans—always excepting that one future
plan which was to end in her marriage. Try as
I might to turn the conversation that way, she
resolutely declined to take the hint. Any open
reference to the question, on my part, would
have been premature at this early stage of our
reconciliation. Besides, I had discovered all I
wanted to know. She was no longer the
reckless, defiant creature whom I had heard and
seen, on the occasion of my martyrdom in
Montagu Square. This was, of itself, enough to
encourage me to take her conversion in hand—
beginning with a few words of earnest warning
directed against the hasty formation of the
marriage tie, and so getting on to higher things.
Looking at her, now, with this new interest—
and calling to mind the headlong suddenness
with which she had met Mr. Godfrey's
matrimonial views—I felt the solemn duty of
interfering, with a fervour which assured me that I
should achieve no common results. Rapidity of
proceeding was, as I believed, of importance in
this case. I went back at once to the question
of the servants wanted for the furnished house.

"Where is the list, dear?"

Rachel produced it.

"Cook, kitchen-maid, housemaid, and footman,"
I read. " My dear Rachel, these servants
are only wanted for a term—the term during
which your guardian has taken the house. We
shall have great difficulty in finding persons of
character and capacity to accept a temporary
engagement of that sort, if we try in London.
Has the house at Brighton been found yet?"

"Yes. Godfrey has taken it; and persons in
the house wanted him to hire them as servants.
He thought they would hardly do for us, and
came back having settled nothing."

"And you have no experience yourself in
these matters, Rachel?"

"None whatever."

"And Aunt Ablewhite won't exert herself?"

"No, poor dear. Don't blame her, Drusilla.
I think she is the only really happy woman I
have ever met with."

"There are degrees in happiness, darling.
We must have a little talk, some day, on that
subject. In the mean time, I will undertake to
meet the difficulty about the servants. Your
aunt will write a letter to the people of the
house——"

"She will sign a letter, if I write it for her,
which comes to the same thing."

"Quite the same thing. I shall get the
letter, and I will go to Brighton to-morrow."

"How extremely kind of you! We will join
you as soon as you are ready for us. And you
will stay, I hope, as my guest. Brighton is so
lively; you are sure to enjoy it."

In those words the invitation was given, and
the glorious prospect of interference was opened
before me.

It was then the middle of the week. By
Saturday afternoon the house was ready for
them. In that short interval I had sifted, not the
characters only, but the religious views as well,
of all the disengaged servants who applied to me,
and had succeeded in making a selection which
my conscience approved. I also discovered,
and called on, two serious friends of mine,
residents in the town, to whom I knew I could
confide the pious object which had brought me
to Brighton. One of them—a clerical friend—
kindly helped me to take sittings for our little
party in the church in which he himself ministered.
The other—a single lady, like myself—
placed the resources of her library (composed
throughout of precious publications) entirely at
my disposal. I borrowed half-a-dozen works,
all carefully chosen with a view to Rachel.
When these had been judiciously distributed
in the various rooms she would be likely to
occupy, I considered that my preparations were
complete. Sound doctrine in the servants who
waited on her; sound doctrine in the minister
who preached to her; sound doctrine in the
books that lay on her table—such was the triple
welcome which my zeal had prepared for the
motherless girl! A heavenly composure filled my
mind, on that Saturday afternoon, as I sat at
the window waiting the arrival of my relatives.
The giddy throng passed and repassed before
my eyes. Alas! how many of them felt my
exquisite sense of duty done? An awful question.
Let us not pursue it.

Between six and seven the travellers arrived.
To my indescribable surprise, they were
escorted, not by Mr. Godfrey (as I had anticipated),
but by the lawyer, Mr. Bruff.

"How do you do, Miss Clack," he said. " I
mean to stay, this time."

That reference to the occasion on which I
had obliged him to postpone his business to
mine, when we were both visiting in Montagu
Square, satisfied me that the old worldling had