The lady would have thought it sadder still, had Miriam been long enough in her service for her to have known all the noble qualities possessed by this ill-tempered girl. Miriam had as high a sense of honour as could have been hers had she been born and bred a lady. Her lips were never stained with untruth, she never did a mean or deceitful thing. Had Miriam found the door of her mistress's store-room open, there would not have been in it one spoonful of tea or one lump of sugar the less. Had Miriam discovered the contents of a purse scattered over the carpet, Mrs. Mellor's gold would have been as safe in Miriam's care as if locked up in an iron box. There was no wretched purloining of trifles, no picking or stealing with Miriam; her conduct was as upright when no mortal was near to watch it, as if she had known that her actions were witnessed by all the world. For Miriam Macbean lived in the fear and love of God. Religion with her was no empty name. With all the straightforward earnestness of her nature, she had given herself to the service of her Heavenly Master. When, at her confirmation, in answer to the question whether she would take upon herself the vow made for her at her baptism, she had uttered the solemn words "I Do," that answer came from the bottom of her heart, and with a fervent prayer that God would help her to keep her vow. Miriam had never forgotten that day, and had often repeated that prayer. And Miriam was not only of a conscientious spirit, she had a warm affectionate heart. She and her twin brother Hamil had at an early age been left orphans, and almost alone in the world. Never, perhaps, had brother and sister loved each other more fondly than did the young Macbeans. Often would Miriam recall the days of her childhood, when the twins lived in a country home. There was a brook which flowed near the cottage in which they had dwelt, and often, when fording this brook, Hamil would carry Miriam with tottering footsteps across the water, to save her from wetting her feet. The boy, who was strong and hearty, would never allow that the weight of his dear little sister could tire him. A slight incident which had occurred when the children were scarcely ten years of age, had shown how warmly Miriam returned the affection of her twin brother. Hamil, when searching a hedge for blackberries, had chanced to be bitten by a viper. The boy's cry of terror and pain had brought Miriam in alarm to his side. Child as she was, her little foot was in an instant stamped upon the head of the snake that had wounded her brother; her love seemed to take away fear, and catching up a large stone, she actually succeeded in killing the reptile. Then, seeing the small mark of the serpent's bite in Hamil's bleeding hand, the brave child, without a moment's hesitation, drew it to her lips, and with all her might proceeded, as she said, "to suck out the poison."