This question of going to church had been one of frequent discussion between the cousins. Isabel had not been brought up to go to the house of God with anything like regularity, while to Mabel a Sunday at home was a very rare occurrence, and "going to church" had drifted into a mere formal observance with her—a cold lifeless service, but one which she never omitted if she could help it. "But what am I to do?" said Isabel in a pained voice. "You know I cannot walk so far, and can very seldom have the carriage. And then papa likes me to read to him or walk about the garden with him on Sunday; it is the only day we have together." "I don't think the walk to church is much longer than our walk to-day," said Mabel, "but where there's a will there's a way," she added tartly. "Well, dear, I will try to go to church if you think I ought." "Why, of course you ought to go," said Mabel in a tone of superiority, "especially if you want to learn—" "Oh, but, Mabel, that is just it!" interrupted her cousin. "I am not clever, and I have not been used to going to church as you have, and it all feels so strange and far-away that I am like one bewildered in church." "Oh, Isabel, if you would only try, you could learn things much better at church than listening to an old woman like Barker," said Mabel. For this was what had vexed her so much, that her cousin should have gone to this old woman for instruction. "Well, dear, I will go to church. I'll go next Sunday, if you think I ought." "Yes, and we'll read a chapter of the Bible together every day," said Mabel in a more pleasant tone. "And if there is anything you cannot understand, I daresay I can help you." The two girls began their Scripture reading that very evening—not that it had been wholly neglected before, for Mabel had always read a few verses as a sort of task she must get through, while Isabel had read a chapter here and there occasionally while her governess was with her, but with no thought that it had anything to do with her. But in the light of what Mrs. Barker had told her, the story of the life of Jesus Christ had altogether a new meaning, for this life was to be translated into her life; this was the holy seed—"the true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," unless it is buried in selfishness and sin. "But, Mabel dear, I have buried it in selfishness and sin," said Isabel sadly, as they were talking over this passage. "I may not have committed any great sin, but I never thought about this holy seed—this 'true light,' and so it has been buried in me all these years. What shall I do?"