Alice walked to church with her a little later, looking very stately and erect beside her small companion. People had always regarded Alice Harper as a proud girl; and there was something in her bearing which certainly suggested pride. Plain clothes only accentuated her air of distinction. And this evening, although she was very pale, and there were dark shadows beneath her grey eyes, she was more beautiful than she had ever been in the days of prosperity. Adversity either disfigures or beautifies. There are certain full-fed, insolently-prosperous girls who would be enormously improved by sorrow. Many a plain face has been made lovely by the chastening of the spirit; and Miss de Vigny, who did not possess a single good feature, had a countenance on which, at the first glance, you could read the sweet record of inward peace. She had suffered meekly, and had come out of the strife into the rest. Afterwards, when they parted at the door in Bruton Street, Mary said "good-bye" very tenderly to her friend. She knew that she would miss Alice when she came back to town in the autumn. But above all things she desired that the girl might have peace after the weary struggle to learn her business. One had only to look at Alice to see that she was a woman who would do what she meant to do. But these resolute people do not succeed without paying the cost of their success. "I know you will be happy at Swallow's Nest," Mary said confidently. "I have often told you how long Mrs. Bower lived with my mother, and how good and faithful she was. Some day I shall run down to the farm and see you all. You will write soon, dear, will you not?" Alice did not find it very easy to answer. Her grey eyes were full of tears. She looked earnestly at Miss de Vigny for a moment, and went her way. There was something dream-like about the London streets in the evening light. And Alice, walking back to the home which had sheltered her for two years, felt as if she, herself, were someone who had been living in a dream. She thought of the only child of the rich man, brought up in a luxurious home, but always pining for the mother who had been early lost. She saw again those sunny heights of womanhood which the child's eyes had seen afar off. How bright they were then! Something of the old splendour lingered about that cloudland still, although the girl had become a sorrowful, hardworking woman. She smiled pityingly at the child who had always dreamed of doing beautiful things, and making everybody happy when she grew up! And yet, perhaps the pity was wasted after all. There are the elements of true happiness in many an unselfish dream. We cannot tell how much we have helped others by the loving desires that we could not shape into deeds. We do not see what our good angels are doing, even with the thoughts of our hearts, when they are sweet and true.