SUNDAY morning dawned with brilliant sunshine, and promised to be a perfect summer's day. Angel arose with a bad headache, no doubt caused by her fit of violent weeping the preceding night; and she was so pale and heavy-eyed when she appeared at the breakfast-table, that her father told her she had better remain at home and rest, instead of going to church. She was glad to do this, and as soon as she was alone, fetched her Bible, and settled herself comfortably on the sofa in the dining-room. "How nice it is that father is strong enough to walk up Haresdown hill," Angel thought as she opened her Bible at a venture, and commenced to read. She found it very difficult to prevent her mind straying from the sacred volume at first to other matters; but presently her attention was chained. "And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption." "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice;" "And be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Angel shut her Bible and sighed deeply as she pondered over these verses. She wondered if her bitterness and wrath last night had grieved the Holy Spirit of God. She was not feeling nearly so much incensed against her brother to-day; the marks of his fingers on her cheek had died out, and her resentment against him was slowly dying out too. She was beginning to see that though her indignation had been only just and natural, her refusal of forgiveness, when he had been really repentant, had been very wrong. If Gerald had been unkind to her, she had been unkind to him. She had scarcely spoken to him this morning, and had deliberately ignored and refrained from responding to the few hesitating remarks he had ventured to address to her. How wicked she had been! No wonder she had been so dreadfully unhappy. Whilst she was meditating thus, Mrs. Vallance knocked at the door, and entering, inquired how she was. "Oh, I think my headache's better," Angel answered. "Are you very busy, Mrs. Vallance?" "No, miss. Polly put the bedrooms in order before she started for church, and there's only cold meat for dinner," was the reply. "I was never in a house where there was less work to be done on Sundays." "Uncle Edward says he likes Sunday to be a day of rest for every one. Do sit down and talk to me for a little while." Mrs. Vallance willingly complied. She was a good-hearted woman, and she and Angel often enjoyed a chat together. "I know what's given you such a bad headache, my dear," the housekeeper said shrewdly; "twas the fuss you had with Master Gerald last night." "Yes," the little girl acknowledged, flushing, and looking confused. "But how did you know?" she inquired, with some anxiety.