Ellice would sometimes begin her tantrums (they could be called nothing else), and suddenly remember--yes, remember--with a pang of remorse for her defection, God's own word, "Better is he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." In an instant she would rush away to the window, and, clenching her hands tight, and fixing her eyes upon the sky, she would send a cry from her heart to the Throne for victory. It was a silent cry. Margaret guessed the greatness of the fight as she watched the little girl's battling for control, her figure tense with emotion. But God, Who reads the secrets of every heart, heard the unbreathed words, "You--you Who love me, now while I am bad, help me not to say the nasty words, and to conquer"; a child's prayer, but how precious! Slowly but surely her character was strengthened, and the sweetness of disposition predominated over the wilful selfishness which had formerly held full sway. It was at this period of her life that something occurred to break up the quiet serenity of Oaklands. The place was very isolated. The parish boasted a tiny church, one of the very smallest in England, standing on the edge of the woods, and encircled by about a dozen cottages, the older inhabitants of which had never left their native hills or seen the railway. A state of things marvellous indeed in this century of movement, but none the less true. Oaklands was the only house of any standing in the neighbourhood. The vicar of Steynham came once on Sunday and held a service in the church; beyond that, visitors rarely found their way to this little old-world hamlet, where Time had swept away most of the traces of a former civilisation which in past days had dwelt in the vicinity of the great forest. Nothing but a waterless moat and a ruined wall remained to mark the spot where a bishop's palace had once been. The Elizabethan residence bearing its name Oaklands, redolent of the forest district in which it stood, was quaint and picturesque. Its leaded windows, gables, and oak-panelled frontage, with massive beams running across the ceilings of the rooms, and handsome wainscotings to the walls, gave it a quaint, old-world air. The farm was such a poor one, that when the last tenant had died, the place had remained empty and out of repair for a long time, and it was through an advertisement that the Medhursts had first heard of it and had decided, in their search for a home far from the madding crowd, to do it up and live there in strict retirement. * * * * *