'' Why, Bessy, what kind of a life has yours
been?"

"Nought worse than many another's, I
reckon. Only I fretted again it, and they
didn't."

"But what was it ? You know, I'm a
stranger here, so perhaps I'm not so quick at
understanding what you mean as if I'd lived
all my lite at Milton."

"If yo'd ha' come to our house when yo'
said yo' would, I could maybe ha' told you.
But father says yo're just like th' rest on
'em; it's out o' sight out o' mind wi' you."

"I don't know who the rest are; and I've
been very busy; and, to tell the truth, I had
forgotten my promise—"

"Yo' offered it; we asked none of it."

"I had forgotten what I said for the time,"
continued Margaret quietly. "I should have
thought of it again when I was less busy.
May I go with you now?"

Bessy gave a quick glance at Margaret's
face, to see if the wish expressed was really
felt. The sharpness in her eye turned to a
wistful longing as she met Margaret's soft
and friendly gaze.

"I ha' none so many to care for me; if yo'
care yo' may come."

So they walked on together in silence. As
they turned up into a small court opening
out of a squalid street, Bessy said,

"Yo'll not be daunted if father's at home,
and speaks a bit gruffish at first. He took a
mind to ye, yo' see, and he thought a deal o'
your coming to see us; and just because he
liked yo' he were vexed and put about."

"Don't fear, Bessy."

But Nicholas was not at home when they
entered. A great slatternly girl, not so old as
Bessy, but taller and stronger, was busy at
the wash-tub, knocking about the furniture
in a rough capable way, but altogether making
so much noise that Margaret shrunk, out of
sympathy with poor Bessy, who had sat down
on ihe first chair, as if completely tired out
with her walk. Margaret asked the sister
for a cup of water, and while she ran to fetch
it (knocking down the fire-irons, and
tumbling over a chair in her way), she unloosed
Bessy's bonnet-strings, to relieve her catching
breath.

"Do you think such life as this is worth
caring for?" gasped Bessy, at last. Margaret
did not speak, but held the water to her lips.
Bessy took a long and feverish draught, and
then fell back and shut her eyes. Margaret
heard her murmur to herself: "They shall
hunger no more, neither thirst any more;
neither shall the sun light on them, nor any
heat."

Margaret bent over and said, " Bessy, don't
be impatient with your life, whatever it is—
or may have been. Remember who gave it
you, and made it what it is!"

She was startled by hearing Nicholas speak
behind her; he had come in without her
noticing him.

"Now, I'll not have my wench preached to.
She's bad enough as it is, with her dreams
and her methodee fancies, and her visions of
cities with golden gates and precious stones.
But if it amuses her I let it abe, but I'm
none going to have more stuff poured into
her."

"But surely," said Margaret, facing round,
"you believe in what I said, that God gave
her life, and ordered what kind of life it was
to be?"

"I believe what I see, and no more. That's
what I believe, young woman. I don't
believe all I hear — no! not by a big deal. I
did hear a young lass make an ado about
knowing where we lived, and coming to see
us. And my wench here thought a deal
about it, and flushed up many a time, when
hoo little knew as I was looking at her, at the
sound of a strange step. But hoo's come at
last, — and hoo's welcome, as long as hoo'll
keep from preaching on what hoo knows
nought about."

Bessy had been watching Margaret's face;
she half sate up to speak now, laying her
hand on Margaret's arm with a gesture of
entreaty. " Don't be vexed wi' him — there's
many a one thinks like him; many and many
a one here. If yo' could hear them speak,
yo'd not be shocked at him; he's a rare good
man, is father — but oh! " said she, falling back
in despair, " what he says at times makes me
long to die more than ever, for I want to
know so many things, and am so tossed about
wi' wonder."

"Poor wench—poor old wench, I'm loth
to vex yo, I am; but a man mun speak out
for the truth, and when I see the world going
all wrong at this time o' day, bothering
itself wi' things it knows nought about, and
leaving undone all the things that lie in
disorder close at its hand — why, I say,
leave a' this talk about religion alone, and set
to work on what you see and know. That's
my creed. It's simple, and not far to fetch,
nor hard to work."

But the girl only pleaded the more with
Margaret.

"Don't think hardly on him — he's a good
man, he is. I sometimes think I shall be
moped wi' sorrow even in the City of God, if
father is not there." The feverish colour came
into her cheek, and the feverish flame into her
eye. "But you will be there, father! you
shall! Oh! my heart!" She put her hand
to it, and became ghastly pale.

Margaret held her in her arms, and put the
weary head to rest upon her bosom, She
lifted the thin soft hair from off the temples,
and bathed them with water. Nicholas
understood all her signs for different articles
with the quickness of love, and even the
round-eyed sister moved with laborious
gentleness at Margaret's " hush!" Presently
the spasm that fore-shadowed death had
passed away, and Bessy roused herself and
said,—