"I don't doubt my love to Him," he pursued, "but it's so cold and lifeless—such a poor return, that sometimes—" Then he glanced up at the sunset clouds, and his troubled thoughts took the form of a prayer—a very simple, child-like one—"O God, show me some one who will help me where I am going!" With a lightened heart, he made his way across the bridge, and now could take in the glory and refreshment of the scene. When he reached his school-fellow's house he was, however, dismayed to find that Jack had set out an hour ago to meet him, and they must have missed. He was asked into the library to wait, and there, seated by a fire, was an invalid gentleman who glanced up from his book to welcome him. After the first civilities had passed, the invalid asked Norman if he would help him by turning over some leaves for him, as with his crippled hands he found it difficult. "I am searching for the 'Becauses,'" he said, looking up with his genial smile; "and I want to find this one, 'We love Him "because" He first loved us!'" Norman's face flushed as he turned over the pages as directed to the First Epistle of John, and the fourth chapter, and the nineteenth verse. Was this an answer to his questionings? "I have been thinking a great deal about that one," Jack's father went on; "and it has comforted me to remember that though my love is often cold and faint, yet my salvation does not depend on that, for it is because He loved me that I am His at all!" Norman's eyes flashed an answering look of joyful acquiescence, and something prompted him to say: "That's just what I wanted, sir. I'd got all mixed up!" "Ah!" said the invalid, "We do! The more earnest we are in wishing to please God, the more, I think, Satan tries to discourage us and make us doubt that we are serving Him at all. And this is where my 'because' comes in; not my love, but His, being my safety." The invalid smiled happily; and then they heard Jack's step come bounding through the house, and his "Hullo, Norman, have you come?" sounded with a hearty, cheery welcome. CHAPTER XIX. THE HAUNTED ROOM. "You will be disappointed if you expect too much," said Agnes, holding the door in her hand and looking into five eager faces congregated on the landing. "Let us in, then, and we'll tell you!" answered Hugh, a tall boy of about fifteen. "You are as bad as the 'penny-a-liners,' who pile up the interest to the end of the chapter, and then leave you in the lurch!" Agnes laughed a little at that, as she threw open the door of the chamber in their uncle's old house, which, for many a day, had had the repute of being haunted.