you particularly devout. Perhaps it will set him thinking, farther and hard! As I set out by saying, you never can tell!” “Oh, Miss Braithwaite, it isn’t likely that Mr. Lucas would pay attention long to no-consequence me!” cried Cis. “You--never--can--tell!” repeated Miss Braithwaite emphatically. “Usually a train of circumstances, some of them trivial and hardly noted, lead men to the Truth; it is like a sort of Divine hare-and-hounds; tiny scraps of paper flutter along the trail, unconsciously seen by the players, till at last! The goal and the game won!” “That’s great, Miss Braithwaite!” cried Cis with quick appreciation of the figure. “I wish I were that sort of a scrap of paper, but it’s not likely.” “Never can tell!” Miss Braithwaite harped on her premise. “I’ve always noticed that when God breaks us, my dear, it’s to use the pieces in new combinations, and for good. It is as if we were picture puzzles, with reverse sides. We’re something quite pretty at first; then the pieces are tossed and displaced by a great experience, and, if we submit and wait, behold God’s Hand puts us all together again, the reverse side up, and the picture is no longer merely a pretty thing, but a beautiful, shining illumination, of which all who run may read its meaning which is at once a magnet and a map of the way.” “Miss Braithwaite, you tell me wonderful things!” cried Cis softly. “If I’m here all winter with you I ought to amount to something; I’ll try to. It’s strange that I don’t hear--from Rodney. Do you suppose he isn’t going to say one word to me? I was sure he’d try to see me. Do you think he’s given right up like this?” “From my experience of men I’d say decidedly not,” said Miss Braithwaite. “However, it is strange that he makes no sign. Perhaps he’s the exception; that his anger will prevent him from claiming to hear his verdict from your lips, but very few men would submit to banishment on the strength of a brief note from you.” “I will not see him; he can’t hear the verdict from my lips!” cried Cis. “What would be the use? Only miserable pain; parting all over again. I’m so afraid of meeting him! You can’t drive me everywhere I go. I truly think I ought to leave Beaconhite; I think perhaps I must.” “Well, well, we’ll see! Not to-night, at least! To-morrow is also a day. I like those wise old sayings. I hope that you may stay on; you need Father Morley for a while. Yes, Ellen; someone to see me?” Miss Braithwaite turned toward her maid, entering with a card on a small salver. “No, Miss Braithwaite, for Miss Adair. He--the caller--was determined to walk right in, but I made him go into the reception room,” said Ellen, who, like most good and faithful servants, was perfectly conversant with household affairs; took care that whatever happened under the roof should, in some way, transpire to her. “Miss Braithwaite, see him! Hide me! I can’t, I can’t!” gasped Cis, snatching at the card, instantly dropping it and looking wildly around.