What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh; Submissive still would I reply, Thy will be done. Renew my will from day to day; Blend it with Thine, and take away Whate'er now makes it hard to say, Thy will be done. Then when on earth I breathe no more, The prayer oft mixed with tears before, I'll sing upon a happier shore, Thy will be done." Stanton, warm-hearted and genuine with all his faults, retired well into the shadow of the hallway and looked at the singer through the lenses of sympathetic tears. "Poor orphan girl," he muttered. "What a villain a man would be who could purpose harm to you!" Van Berg, in accordance with his cooler and less demonstrative nature, kept his position at her side, but he regarded her with an expression of respect and interest that caused Ida Mayhew, who was watching from her covert near, a sense of pain and envy that surprised her by its keenness. With a sudden longing which indicated that the wish came direct from from her heart, she sighed: "What would I not give to see him look at me with that expression on his face!" Then, startled by her own thought, so vivid had it been, she looked around as if in fear it was apparent to her companion. His eyes were in truth bent upon her, and in the dusk they seemed like livid coals. A moment later, as with a shrinking sense of fear she furtively looked at him again, his eyes suggested those of some animal of prey that is possessed only with the wolfish desire to devour, caring for the victim only as it may gratify the ravenous appetite. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear: "Miss Ida, you do not know how strangely, how temptingly beautiful you are to-night. One might well peril his soul for such beauty as yours." "Hush," she said imperiously, and with a repelling gesture, she stepped further into the light towards the singers. "Then, when on earth I breathe no more," sang Miss Burton. The thought was to the heart of the unhappy listener like the touch of ice to the hand. There was a kindling light of hope in Miss Burton's face, and something in her tone that indicated the courage of an unfaltering trust as she sang the closing lines: "I'll sing upon a happier shore, Thy will be done." But the words brought a deeper despondency to Ida Mayhew. In bitterness she asked herself, "What chance is there for me to reach 'that happier shore,' with the tempter at my side and everything in the present and past combining to drag me down?" "There, thank heaven 'meetin's over,'" whispered Sibley, as Miss Burton rose from the piano. "I'm sick of all this pious twaddle, and would a thousand-fold rather listen to the music of your voice out under the trees." "You 'thank heaven'!" she repeated with a reckless laugh. "I'm inclined to think, Mr. Sibley, from the nature of your words, you named the wrong locality."