Good fortune awaited her in this respect, and the hands of the clock in the park tower were pointing to six as she sped along towards the Rose-walk. Presently she descried the two ladies she sought sitting together on a bench, but they were evidently far too much occupied with one another to take any heed of Marielle’s approach, if, indeed, they heard her footsteps on the grass. No one else was in sight, and the girl drew nearer until when within a few yards, her mother looked up and saw her. “Why, Marielle darling, what a pleasure!” Mrs. Heritage exclaimed, but her voice sounded tremulous, and Marielle, coming closer still, scrutinised the faces of the two friends. The eyes of both were full of tears, which, as the girl gazed, overflowed. Not a little alarmed, she hurriedly asked what was the matter. “Come and sit here between us, dear, and you shall know,” answered Mrs. Duncan for them both, smiling and making room on the bench beside her. Puzzled, and it must be confessed, extremely curious, Marielle did as she was requested, and Mrs. Duncan began: “I have just been telling your dear mother, Marielle, what it has often before been my wish to make known to her; but one naturally feels a little shy about speaking of such matters until sufficiently intimate with anyone to warrant doing so. What I had to tell was simply this, that under God, to you, dear girl, I owe the greatest happiness of my life. Your singing at St. Jude’s on the last Sunday in Lent, of ‘There is a green hill,’ was the means of opening my dear husband’s eyes to his need of a Saviour, and he has been a changed man ever since. Not that he was ever anything but good, kind, and true, but his belief was not a living faith, and his soul might be said to have been almost dead within him. Now all is different, and John and I, who had been at one upon every other point except religion, are now at one upon that too. I repeat that I have to thank you, dear girl, for the greatest happiness of my life, under God,” and taking Marielle’s hand in hers, Margaret Duncan pressed it affectionately. For a few moments not a word was spoken, for Marielle could not control her voice sufficiently. She was moved beyond expression, and realised more fully than ever she had done what a gift had been entrusted to her by God, in that glorious voice and high musical talent. Presently however she turned to Mrs. Duncan with glistening eyes, and remarked simply: “I shall always consider what you have told me, as my greatest reward, since no amount of money could ever be worth to me what the knowledge of the good I was the instrument, in God’s hands, of doing, will ever be.” (_To be concluded._) [Illustration] A DREAM OF FAIR SERVICE. BY C. A. MACIRONE. CHAPTER III. THE POOR ITALIAN PEASANT, ROSA GOVONA.