"But all need not be vanity, don't you think, Mr. Needham?" said Henry, when he called on the vicar next day. "All isn't vanity, I now feel sure, if we can keep green a simple faith in God's goodness to us; and surely if we only attempt to model our conduct on the life of Jesus we shall be in the way of spiritual happiness." "My boy, you have got the drift of what I said. There's nothing in life to place above that. Surely to do these things is to fight the good fight, and learning or want of it matters nothing. All the learning, so far as I can see, brings one only to the starting-place of ignorance when we face the Eternal. Hold fast by that belief, and all will be well. Let your motto be _Servabo fidem_, or as the French hath it, _Gardez la foi_." Henry did not smile even in his mind at the Latin and French tags. He could now accept and almost welcome these little foibles for the sake of the sheltered life the old man had led, and the white flower of simple faith which had blossomed in the garden of his soul. "Yes, Mr. Needham, I'm not the first who went to gather wisdom, and came back empty-handed to find it at my own door." "Nor the last, Henry; nor the last." Mr. Needham was not the only one at the vicarage whom Henry went to see, and during the remainder of his holiday his visits were remarkably frequent. Henry's new interest in the vicar seemed extraordinary to Edward John, though it rejoiced hearts at the Post Office in a way the postmaster did not then suspect. Eunice was lovelier than ever, but with the first charm of loveliness to Henry, who had at length discovered that she had violet eyes, and was quite the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. "How blind I must have been!" said he to himself. How blind!--nay, he had only been focussing his gaze on things so far off and vain, that the things near at hand and to be cherished he had overlooked. He had been peering at the mysteries of the heavens through a telescope, and trampling the while on the loveliness of earth. But at last with the naked eye of his heart he saw all things in a truer perspective--a heart refreshed with the re-entry of its old first, simple faith. "That book" was never finished. Henry read over what he had written, and had the courage to destroy it, convinced that it was gloomy and unhappy. Eunice probably had something to do with that; for he found her ardent in praise of those who wrote happy books. And when he was in the train for Fleet Street once again it was with a great contentment in his soul, and high hope of doing zestfully his daily task; for he had found that not only wisdom, but love, often lies at our own door if we but open our eyes--and our heart. THE END _Printed by Cowan & Co., Limited, Perth._ EVERETT'S NEW NOVELS _By Popular Authors._ At all Libraries and Booksellers.