Soon after the important interview which has been stated to have taken place between the lady of the manor and the vicar had occurred, Mr. Cartwright having met Fanny on the stairs in his way to her mamma's morning parlour, asked her, with even more than his usual tender kindness, whether he might not be admitted for a few minutes into her "study;" for it was thus that _her_ dressing-room was now called by as many of the household as made a point of doing every thing that Mr. Cartwright recommended. "Oh yes," she replied with all the zealous piety which distinguishes the sect to which she belonged, whenever their consent is asked to do or suffer any thing that nobody else would think it proper to do or suffer,--"Oh yes!--will you come now, Mr. Cartwright?" "Yes, my dear child, it is now that I wish to come;"--and in another moment the Vicar of Wrexhill and his beautiful young parishioner were sitting tête-à-tête on the sofa of the young lady's dressing-room. As usual with him on all such occasions, he took her hand. "Fanny!" he began,--"dear, precious Fanny! you know not how much of my attention--how many of my thoughts are devoted to you!" "Oh! Mr. Cartwright, how very, very kind you are to think of me at all!" "You must listen to me Fanny," (he still retained her hand,) "you must now listen to me with very great attention. You know I think highly of your abilities--indeed I have not scrupled to tell you it was my opinion that the Lord had endowed you with great powers for his own especial service and glory. That last hymn, Fanny, confirms and strengthens me in this blessed belief, and I look upon you as a chosen vessel. But, my child, we must be careful that we use, and not abuse, this exceeding great mercy and honour. Your verses, Fanny, are sweet to my ear, as the songs of the children of Israel to those who were carried away captive. But not for me--not for me alone, or for those who, like me, can taste the ecstasy inspired by holy song, has that power been given unto you. The poor, the needy, those of no account in the reckoning of the proud--they have all, my dearest Fanny, a right to share in the precious gift bestowed on you. Wherefore, I am now about to propose to you a work to which the best and the holiest devote their lives, but on which you have never yet tried your young strength:--I mean, my dearest child, the writing of tracts for the poor." "Oh! Mr. Cartwright! Do you really think it possible that I can be useful in such a blessed way?" "I am sure you may, my dear Fanny; and you know this will be the means of doing good both to the souls and bodies of the saints. For what you shall write, will not only be read to the edification and salvation of many Christian souls, but will be printed and sold for the benefit either of the poor and needy, or for the furthering such works and undertakings as it may be deemed most fit to patronise and assist."