Kate Turner was a natural musician, and to-night she fairly excelled herself. The little passage at arms just recorded had inspired her with emotions that could only be expressed in music, and she played some time to the continued delight of her listeners. She finished at last with a song that stirred every heart, and even Mrs. Dyke was visibly softened. "Verily 'music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,'" murmured the intellectual young lady, who was sorry that discussion of Robert Elsmere had been interrupted. She rather enjoyed Mrs. Dyke, for she was an immensely interesting "character." This reception, like all others, came to an end at last. Everybody expressed themselves as highly delighted with their entertainment, and one by one reluctantly took their departure; the gay lanterns on the lawn and among the shrubbery went out, the lights inside the splendid mansion were finally extinguished, and only the quiet starlight illumined Terrace Hill. Mrs. Hayden, from her high bay window, looked out over the sleeping city, then at the North Star that beamed so brightly above her--that unerring beacon-light that guides so many lost mariners into port. Some deep thought must have moved her, some hidden impulse stirred her mind. She sighed. There was no visible reason for it. Then she turned and went down the stairs to the nursery. Her two babies were sleeping sweetly. Mabel was asleep in her room, and all was quiet. The hush seemed oppressive after so much gay confusion. Now she was in another element. Now she was the mother, then she was a fashionable woman. She hastened back to her room, once more gazed without and then thoughtfully retired. CHAPTER II. "Christianity is not a theory or a speculation, but a _life_; not a philosophy of life, but a life and a living process."--_Coleridge._ Kate Turner walked slowly along the street at the foot of Terrace Hill. She looked up at the beautiful home where she had spent the previous evening, and as she saw the velvet lawn and terraced walks bordered with bright flowers, she half pitied herself because she was only a plodding music teacher. She was not envious, but she had such longing aspirations to be somebody in the world; she wanted so many things, needed so much to complete her education, and starved herself in so many ways for the sake of completing it, that sometimes she grew discontented with her lot. Fortunately her moods did not last long, however, and especially when she went home to her artist friend, Grace, with whom she shared rooms. They were both making their own way in the world, and were a great help to each other, as well as a great comfort.