"But the more she understood His love, the more she grieved that she had not served Him earlier. Not really served Him. She had worked hard, and had tried to do her duty, but she had not done it unto Him! She had not thought of Him, or loved Him." "She said—said—the difference—" broke from Lettice again. "Yes. It is a difference. It must be. Instead of going to a Home, and a Divine Friend, known and loved for years, it was like going to a strange land, and a Saviour almost unknown. I do believe that she is there, in the fair Land of Paradise, with Him, learning to know Him better. But the going must have been very different from what it would have been, if she had given her life to Him here. And so she wanted you and Felix to do otherwise,—not to please only yourselves, and to forget God, until the end should be near. Very often there is no time, or no strength, then to think of Him. And even if there were, it is so much nobler to live for Him." "Oh, I will, I will. I'll never forget. I will try;" and Lettice burst into a flood of tears. It was long before Prue could soothe her; and neither of the two had much sleep that night. Yet in the morning Lettice seemed brighter, relieved from a certain mental pressure, and glad to be going because Sissie had wished it. After long expectation, the reality is sometimes not so bad as the expectation has been. A letter had been sent to announce her coming, and a post-card in reply stated, "Shall be met," the handwriting not that of Dr. Bryant. On reaching Bristol station, however, no one from Quarrington Cottage could be found; and the farmer's wife put Lettice into a cab. It was only about a two miles' drive. "All this yours! What a pile of rubbish! Where do you expect it to go, I wonder?" demanded Theodosia Bryant. She had come out upon the doorstep, tall and good: looking, with lifted eyebrows of dissatisfaction. A pretty boy peeped inquisitively in her rear. Lettice descended from the cab, longing for a kind word of welcome which did not come. Two fingers were tended, and hastily withdrawn. "Why on earth couldn't you leave some of it at Reading or Brighton? Four big boxes, I declare—and a portmanteau—and a carpet-bag. One would think she meant to take up her abode here for the rest of her life!" A very audible aside, this, and Lettice's pale cheeks burnt responsively. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped. Tell the man to take them all up to Miss Anderson's room," in disdainful accents to the maid. Then to Lettice, "You may as well come in." Theodosia swept across the passage into the drawing room, and Lettice followed—once more a mere awkward child, acutely conscious of her unwelcome. No Dr. Bryant appeared. Theodosia descended into an easy-chair, motioning Lettice to another which was not easy; and Keith cast askance glances at the newcomer, standing by his mother's side.