Mr. Ewart had begun a bold, clever sketch,—stones and moss, trees and grass were rapidly appearing on the paper, but he wanted some living object to give interest to the picture. Naturally his eye fell upon Mark, in his tattered jacket and straw hat, but he forgot his sketch as he looked closer at the boy, and met his sad, anxious gaze. “You are unhappy, I fear,” he said, laying down his pencil. Mark cast down his eyes, and said nothing. “You are in need, or you are ill, or you are in want of a friend,” said the clergyman with kind sympathy in his manner. “Oh, sir, it is not that—” began Mark, and stopped. “Come nearer to me, and tell me frankly, my boy, what is weighing on your heart. It is the duty, it is the privilege of the minister of Christ to speak comfort to those who require comfort.” “Can you tell me,” cried Mark, with a great effort, “the way for sinners—to be saved?” “The Saviour is _the Way, the Truth, and the Life_, the Gate by which alone we enter into salvation. _Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved. The just shall live by faith._” “What is faith?” said Mark, gathering courage from the gentleness with which he was addressed. “Faith is to believe all that the Bible tells us of the Lord, His glory, His goodness, His death for our sins, to believe all the promises made in His Word, to rest in them, hope in them, make them our stay, and love Him who first loved us. Have you a Bible, my friend?” “I have.” “And do you read it?” “Very often,” replied Mark. “_Search the Scriptures_, for they are the surest guide; search them with faith and prayer, and the Lord will not leave you in darkness, but guide you by his counsel here, and afterward receive you to glory.” Mr. Ewart did not touch his pencil again that day, his sketch lay forgotten upon the grass. He was giving his hour to a nobler employment, the employment worthy of angels, the employment which the Son of God Himself undertook upon earth. He was seeking the sheep lost in the wilderness, he was guiding a sinner to the truth. “I hope that I have not kept you waiting,” exclaimed Charles, as he came bounding back to his tutor; “the carriage has come for us from the inn; it looks as if we should have rain, we must make haste home.” Mr. Ewart, who felt strongly interested in Mark, now asked him for his name and address, and noted down both in his pocket-book. He promised that, if possible, he would come soon and see him again. “Keep to your good resolutions,” said the clergyman, as he walked towards the carriage, accompanied by Charles; “and remember that though _the just shall live by faith_, it is such faith as must necessarily produce _repentance_, _love_, and _a holy life_.” Mr. Ewart stepped into the carriage, the young lord sprang in after him, the servant closed the door and they drove off. Mark stood watching the splendid equipage as it rolled along the road, till it was at last lost to his sight.