The offered home was gladly accepted by the girl. She felt strongly drawn to the happy home life, which was so far removed from all her former experience. The children took to her, and she to them. An atmosphere of love seemed to pervade the cottage home. The fair scenes, the sweet calm of rural life, delighted her. No one would have expected that the charms of quiet, perhaps sleepy, Ashworth could have long attracted a rough factory girl, accustomed to the noisy bustling life of town. But again the unexpected happened. Kate made her decision without the least hesitation, and it was one she never regretted. Reuben was surprised at the change he discerned in Kate at each visit he made to his home. The girl was rapidly losing her rough, coarse ways. Her movements, her look, her voice, were all more gentle than they had been. She had abandoned the frizzled, untidy mop in which she had delighted, and wore her hair brushed smoothly from her forehead, a change which Reuben thought a wonderful improvement to her appearance. The fresh pure air was making her strong, and the hue of health glowed in her cheek. A womanly comeliness distinguished her now which she had lacked before. But her bright and kind expression was her chief attraction, and the secret of that Reuben knew. For Kate had "got religion," or, in other words, she had heard the Saviour's "Come unto Me," and was learning of the meek and lowly One. David Grant's old house had stood empty ever since his death. It had been bought with the land, but the purchaser did not wish to live there, and he could not let it. There was talk of its being pulled down and a modern house erected on the spot. But after five years had passed, it still stood there. It had not lost its picturesque appearance. The ivy hung in thick clusters from its walls; the untrained clematis festooned the old porch, strangling the branches of the rose tree; but the garden was a wilderness, and a nearer inspection of the house showed it to be sadly dilapidated. Nothing had been done to secure it from the ravages of time, and it was now little better than a ruin, a melancholy symbol of the desolation sin had brought upon the home life once so full of gladness. Mrs. Grant still dwelt in the tiny cottage to which she had removed. From year to year she grew more feeble and infirm, till it seemed as if only the constant hope of her son's return kept her in life. But it was a hope long deferred. Reuben Roy never failed to visit the old woman when he came to Ashworth, but he grew to dread meeting the wistful, longing gaze which he was unable to satisfy. For he could bring her no tidings of Owen. Reuben was ever on the watch for him, but without result. Owen had taken himself out of the way of all his old associates.