I did so, and could not help overhearing a very pretty apology; to which Miss Clare replied, that she feared she only was to blame, inasmuch as she ought to have explained the peculiarity of her circumstances before accepting the engagement. At the time, it had not appeared to her necessary, she said; but now she would make a point of explaining before she accepted any fresh duty of the kind, for she saw it would be fairer to both parties. It was no wonder such an answer should entirely disarm cousin Judy, who forthwith begged she would, if she had no objection, resume her lessons with the children at the commencement of the next quarter. "But I understand from Mrs. Percivale," objected Miss Clare, "that the office is filled to your thorough satisfaction." "Yes; the lady I have is an excellent teacher; but the engagement was only for a quarter." "If you have no other reason for parting with her, I could not think of stepping into her place. It would be a great disappointment to her, and my want of openness with you would be the cause of it. If you should part with her for any other reason, I should be very glad to serve you again." Judy tried to argue with her, but Miss Clare was immovable. "Will you let me come and see you, then?" said Judy. "With all my heart," she answered. "You had better come with Mrs. Percivale, though, for it would not be easy for you to find the place." We went up to the drawing-room to tea, passing through the study, and taking the gentlemen with us. Miss Clare played to us, and sang several songs,--the last a ballad of Schiller's, "The Pilgrim," setting forth the constant striving of the soul after something of which it never lays hold. The last verse of it I managed to remember. It was this:-- Thither, ah! no footpath bendeth; Ah! the heaven above, so clear, Never, earth to touch, descendeth; And the There is never Here!" "That is a beautiful song, and beautifully sung," said Mr. Blackstone; "but I am a little surprised at your choosing to sing it, for you cannot call it a Christian song." "Don't you find St. Paul saying something very like it again and again?" Miss Clare returned with a smile, as if she perfectly knew what he objected to. "You find him striving, journeying, pressing on, reaching out to lay hold, but never having attained,--ever conscious of failure." "That is true; but there is this huge difference,--that St. Paul expects to attain,--is confident of one day attaining; while Schiller, in that lyric at least, seems--I only say seems--hopeless of any satisfaction: _Das Dort ist niemals Hier._" "It may have been only a mood," said Miss Clare. "St. Paul had his moods also, from which he had to rouse himself to fresh faith and hope and effort."