"Now," she said almost gaily, to remove his embarrassment, "let me follow up this wholesome lesson to myself by an exercise of charity: we will go and see Mary Burns; come, dear aunt;" and once more she was at the other side of the stile, and half-way down the lane with the child, before they overtook her. Minnie and her aunt entered the humble bedroom of poverty, alone. Mr. Skaife left them at the door of the cottage to pay a visit in the neighbourhood. From a neighbour sitting there, to take care of the paralytic mother of Mary Burns, they learned that the unfortunate girl had been driven to attempt the dreadful act of the previous day, on account of the cruel desertion of one who had led her from the path of right; he led her into darkness, and left her there to fight her way through shadows to the end of a dreary maze, without a word to cheer, or a thread to guide her footsteps. There was no one to tell her of a far off light, which with much seeking and sorrow she assuredly would find. Nothing but despair around her, she flew to death, a sad thing to meet in our unrepented sin! It was to this poor wounded heart that Mr. Skaife brought life and balm. Though humbled and sorrowing, the girl was hopeful now; she did not, however, allude to the one whose desertion had maddened her. Aunt Dorcas forbore questioning her too closely, seeing her evident desire to withhold her seducer's name; and poor Minnie sat and wept. She had learned two lessons that day: not to judge too hastily from a calm exterior, as in the case of Mr. Skaife's warm heart, and that there are sorrows in this world leading often to suicide or madness, hybrids of opposite things--confidence and deceit. They quitted the cottage, promising to see the unhappy girl shortly, and as Minnie bade her cheer up and not despond, she leaned over the low pallet of misery, leaving a better gift in the sight of Heaven than the purse she hid beneath the pillow--a sister's tear over a fallen sister; for are we not all one large family? and of children, too, ever learning something new--Earth our school, Heaven our home--with glad faces to rejoice over our coming thither, when our weary lessons here shall be over! Mr. Skaife joined them outside, and, by mutual consent, none alluded to poor Mary Burns; but Minnie turned smilingly to the young curate, and spoke more kindly than she had ever done before, as he walked beside her, her aunt leaning upon his arm. However, they parted from him before arriving at Gatestone, and the aunt and niece entered the old hall together, to receive a double fire of indignant reproaches from Sylvia and Juvenal, though the latter was one who appeared ever more inclined to weep than scold; he became whining and lacrymose when injured in any way; he did not stand up boldly to fight his enemy; there was something decidedly currish in his disposition. "I do think," he began, "that I am hardly treated as master