As for her religious education, it was what might have been expected under the circumstances. Her parents, ignorant of the truth themselves, though well-disposed, as it is called, to religion, had sent her when quite a little one to the Sunday-school, where she picked up a score or two of texts and as many hymns. She also had gone to church regularly once every Sunday, but certainly had acquired little other knowledge in the house of God than an acquaintance with the most ingenious methods of studying picture-books and story-books on the sly, and of trying the patience of the teachers whose misfortune it was for the time to be in command of the children's benches during divine service. As she grew up, however, Sunday-school and church were both forsaken. Tired with constant study and the few household duties which she could not avoid performing, she was glad to lie in bed till the Sunday-school bell summoned earlier risers; and with the school, the attendance at church also was soon abandoned. In summer-time, dressed in clothes which were gay rather than neat or becoming, she would stroll out across the hills during afternoon service with some like-minded female companion, and return by tea-time listless and out of spirits, conscious of a great want, but unconscious of the only way to satisfy it. For Kate Evans had a mind and heart which kept her from descending into the paths of open sin. Many young women there were around her, neglecters, like herself, of God, his house, and his day, who had plunged into the depths of open profligacy; but with such she had neither intercourse nor sympathy, for she shrunk instinctively from everything that was low and coarse. Yet she walked in darkness; an abiding shadow rested on her spirit. She had gained admiration and won esteem, but she wanted peace. Her heart was hungry, and must needs remain so till it should find its only true satisfying food in "Jesus, the bread of life." Such was Kate Evans when she had reached the age of twenty--restless, unsatisfied, fretting under the restraints and privations of a poor working-man's home, shrinking from earning her bread by the labour of her hands, yet unable--for her heart would not allow her--to apply for any school work which might remove her from the home where her services were greatly needed by her now bed-ridden mother. It was, then, with no small gratification, though not without some misgivings, that she found herself the object of special attentions on the part of William Foster. She was well aware that he was no friend to religion, but then he was supposed to be highly moral; and she felt not a little flattered by the devoted service of a man who was the oracle of the working-classes on all matters of science and higher literature; while he on his part was equally pleased with the prospect of having for his wife one who, both in personal attractions and education, was universally allowed to be in her rank the flower of Crossbourne.