"I am taking up a great deal of your time," said Calista, becoming suddenly aware of the fact, and rising as the church clock struck. "You are welcome to it, my child. Sit down again for a moment; I have something more to say to you." Calista sat down, wondering what was coming. "My dear Calista, I have always been interested in you," began Mr. Settson, "for the sake of your grandfather, who was my father's friend and mine, as well as for your own sake, and also because I consider myself as your guardian by your grandfather's appointment. When Miss Druett brought you home, I applied to Miss Priscilla Stanfield for permission to take you and bring you up as my own, but this she refused, and for some reason, which I do not understand, has always refused. I have, however, kept my eye upon you. Thus I prevailed upon your aunt to send you to school—" "I thought that was Miss Druett's doing," interrupted Calista, surprised. "It was, in a great degree; that is, I should never have carried my point but for her. What I wish to say is, that you may always come to me for any advice or help you need. Consider me as standing to you in the place of a father." "Thank you, sir," said Calista, gratefully; "I am sure you are very good. It is a comfort to think I have even one friend to look to." "'You have one Friend far more powerful than I am, my child, if you will only seek him. Try to cultivate a sense of personal religion. Do you do so?" "No, Mr. Settson," answered Calista, with the perfect frankness which was one of her best traits. "I don't even know exactly what you mean by personal religion." "I mean personal loyalty to a personal God and Saviour," said Mr. Settson, emphatically. "You can understand that." "Yes, sir; but I am afraid I don't feel it. Mr. Settson, will you just tell me one thing?" "If I can, certainly." "Do you really and truly, I don't say believe, but feel and realize it, that God is your own Friend and Father, and loves you so that he really cares for what you do and what happens to you?" "I most certainly do!" answered the old lawyer, with an earnestness equal to her own. "I don't say that I am able to realize the fact at all times alike, but I know and believe it as firmly as I do in my own existence. Calista, I have had a reasonably prosperous and happy life, but I solemnly declare that, only for my children, if I believed this life was all, and that there was no God, or that God did not love and care for me, I would give up life as a bad business, and be rid of the trouble." "But would that be right?" asked Calista. "Perhaps not; but I fear the idea of right and wrong would not be very strong with me under such circumstances as I have supposed." "What about Mr. Simpson's mortgage?" asked Calista, as she rose to go. "Oh! Tell Miss Priscilla that the man has been sick and unfortunate, but he is sure to pay in the end, and I think she had better give him a little more time. The investment is safe enough."