Arthur's face was fairly glowing with happiness as he spoke, and his mother's reflected the holy joy which stirred both hearts. "I thank God that it is so, Arthur," said Mrs. Glyn. "My chief prayer for my children has ever been that those so dear to me should be dear to Him, for Christ's sake. May you be abundantly blessed in your ministry! But you will be. You have 'Christ in you, the hope of glory.' With Him you will surely have all things needful for soul and body." The mother's words and the mother's blessing lingered in the memory of Arthur Glyn, and cheered him onward. But though Hilda and Gertrude were both in remunerative situations, and seven years of hard work had passed over Arthur's head, his task was not yet finished. His health had so far broken down, that a total change of scene and occupation became absolutely necessary. He was compelled to give up teaching. His income would be very small during the coming year, for the Fellowship would be his but for three months longer, and he was now only curate of Little Cray, with a salary of a hundred and thirty pounds a year and a house. Further, after all the hard work and the self-denial of seven past years, more than three hundred pounds of debt still remained unpaid. To the man of thirty, depending on his stipend as curate, it seemed as if his task were just beginning. At three-and-twenty, flushed with scholarly victories, with an assured income and unimpaired health, the greater work had been boldly undertaken. Now it was different. The sum still owing was but a remnant of the really important whole, yet it weighed the man down. Not that the load itself was so heavy comparatively, but the back was less strong, the spirits were less buoyant, and the health was somewhat impaired by severe mental labour. Not seriously. Arthur's constitution was sound; he only wanted rest to make him more vigorous than ever. Still, after all that had been done and was yet to be accomplished, it can hardly be wondered at, if the curate's heart sank within him as he paced up and down his room, asking himself the question, "Shall I be able to fulfil my promise to my dead father, repeated to the dear mother on the last day of her life? Or shall I, after having accomplished so much, sink under the remainder?" The thought had hardly shaped itself into a question when Arthur reproached himself for it. "Hitherto hath the Lord helped me," he thought. "I have trusted thus far; I will trust Him still." CHAPTER II.