“There is nothing miserable in it,” said Helen, forgetting herself, and speaking rapidly, and so low that the banker needed to bend forward before he could hear; “nothing but what we _make_; I think the words should be noble and grand rather, in all its light and all its gloom. It is very dark sometimes. I know there are eclipses and thunderclouds; but not miserable--no, no. It does not become us--surely it does not become us to make its changes matters of sadness; for the labour’s sake it is good to rest, and the labour itself--I think sometimes that if we had no other blessing, _that_ would be great enough to rejoice in all our days--to have work to do under the sunshine of heaven--work for the Master--the King! I do not know; I think there is no grief that can match the joy of this.” The nervous small fingers were clasped together, the unquiet face looking into the vacant air with shining, abstracted eyes, the head erected in eager enthusiasm; and bending forward as if to a magnet, the banker Oswald looked on. Lilias Maxwell laid her hand gently on Helen’s clasped fingers. There was an instantaneous change: the erect head fell into its ordinary stoop, the eyes were cast down, the figure shrank back shy and trembling, and Mr Oswald drew a long breath, and threw himself back in his chair, as the Reverend Robert brought down the tone of the conversation to the common-place and prosaic, by saying, with some emphasis,-- “I perfectly agree with Miss Buchanan.” Mrs Gray had been somewhat startled. Mr Insches set her right again. She shook her head. “Ah, young people, young people; it is quite natural, no doubt; but you don’t know--you will find it out only too soon.” Mr Whyte rose from his chair with some displeasure, and lifted his fine hand in admonition. “Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I say unto you rejoice.” The animation of his words lighted up his gentle face; not alone in the sunshine and in the fair earth, but in the Lord with whom was the wonderful “fellowship” of the holy man. It was meet that there should be gladness in all his peaceful life, for this was its charm and spell. Mrs Whyte changed her seat. She took the chair which Mrs Gray left vacant beside Lilias and Helen, to the great contentment of the Reverend Robert. “I warn you, young ladies, against my sister,” said Mrs Whyte, cheerfully. “Agnes has had a great deal of grief herself, and she thinks it is the common lot, and is anxious to prepare others for all that befell her. She means it very kindly, though I think she is mistaken; but, Miss Maxwell, you must not adopt these melancholy views of hers--it is quite soon enough to be sorrowful when sorrow comes.” “You warn _me_, Mrs Whyte,” said Lilias, smiling. “Have you no fear for Helen?”