They closed the evening, as it was always closed in the house at Ayr--with the simple and devout worship of the family. Harry, with his fine mind so clear to-night, and happily elevated, a young household priest, conducted those simple fervent devotions--for the religious emotions were strong within him. They swayed him much sometimes, as, unfortunately other feelings swayed him at other some; but he was deeply susceptible at all times to all the beauty, all the grandeur of the holy faith he professed. The young man’s voice trembled, and his heart swelled as he appealed to the Great Father for the sake of the wonderful Son. And as, most humbly and earnestly, he asked for strength against temptation, the tears in Martha’s eyes were tears of hope--almost of joy. She thought that surely never again this young ingenuous spirit would fall--never again forsake that holy brotherhood, at whose head He stands, who was once tempted for the sake of us--to defile its garments with the mean sins of former times. There was a shadow of deep quiet upon all their faces as they rose from their knees; they thought they had come to the beginning of a purer, happier time. They, these anxious women, thought so for him; and he, poor Harry! for himself, with those joyous eyes of his, looked forward to the future, without fear. CHAPTER IX. “I was gay as the other maidens--all the springs and hopes and youthful things of the world were like me: prithee, lady, think not I say so out of envy of your fair estate; for in good sooth, youth is estate enough for a free heart. But before youth goes, troubles come--yourself must meet them anon--and be not fearful, gentle one; for it may be they will leave rare wealth with you, and take but a little sunshine away.” OLD PLAY. THE next day Harry entered blithely upon his old duties again. The morning was sunny, and bright, and Agnes stood at the window with the baby, to watch him as he emerged from the outer door below, and turned to look up to her, and take off his hat in playful salutation. He had a little cluster of fresh spring primroses, pulled last morning in the Ayr garden, gracing his button-hole, and there was a spring in his step, and an elastic grace in his manner as he went away, that made glad the heart of the little wife. They were all very blithe this morning--the gladness came involuntarily from Agnes’ lips in the familiar form of song; she sang to the baby--she sang to them all.