"Was ever any life loftier than the Life of Christ? He said, 'I come to do Thy Will, O God!' We too, in our little measure, may say and do the same. If that be the ruling passion of your heart, 'To do His Will,' then no success will injure you, and no adversities will shake your firm foundation. Whatever your line of life may be, it makes no difference. Christ is there; and you have to do His will. He may give you success; or He may not. But one thing is certain. You will not do your work less well because you do it 'unto Him.' You will not live a less beautiful life because you live it 'unto Him.' "Success is more commonly His Will for the diligent; and He bids us to be diligent. He would not have us feeble and indolent servants. He would have us strive our utmost. And suppose He gives to us success and wealth—what then? What of the money so gained? My friends, remember, 'No man liveth to himself!' And wait upon your God for orders. The silver and gold are His, not yours. Whether you have much or little, you hold it all in trust for Him; and you have to do His Will." Felix walked out of Church with those words sounding in his ears— "You hold it all in trust for Him, and you have to do His Will." He said not a word to Lettice. Like Cecilia, he was reserved. They talked of other things at supper; discussed Lettice's troubles; and planned little changes in their mode of life together. Lettice was in gay spirits, joyous as a kitten; and Felix was thoughtful, but not sad. That sentence clung to him still, "You hold it all in trust!" His savings were not strictly his own; they were only held in trust; and if he were called upon to spend more, to lay by less, why should he resist? Further than this he did not advance before bedtime; and then the old struggle recommenced. But in the last few hours he had learnt something, and he was stronger to fight. These persistent regrets were far from noble. They drove him at last, in the dead of the night, to prayer, and from his knees Felix arose, victor over himself. CHAPTER XVIII. A NEEDED TOUCH. "THREE months since I came! I seem to have been years in London,—years and years!" said Lettice aloud. She had been busy all the morning over some mending for her brother: singing to herself as she darned and patched. To work for him was a pure delight, because she loved him, and because he was good to her. Lettice had fitted easily and completely into her new home, finding great happiness there. The dull little room, and uninteresting outlook, signified nothing. Perpetual cheer existed in perpetual freedom from Theodosia's rasping temper, in constant power to devote herself to Felix. She could often forget for hours together the unjust and cruel suspicion under which she still lay; and only the thought of Dr. Bryant weighed still.