The days of dearth and barrenness will come, _must_ come, to those who sow their seed upon the stony ground. The bright sky must cloud over, the winds and waves roar and swell, and the house that is builded on the sand must fall, and great shall be the ruin of it. Secure in the present calm, poor little frail barks skim the surface and are content. Thus we leave Charlotte, and will not look at her again, lest we see that saddest of all sad sights, the falling of the prop on which she leaned in her blindness and foolishness, the breaking of the staff which shall surely pierce her hand with a wound which no earthly power can avail to heal. PART III. CONCLUSION. "As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, Leads, by the hand, her little child to bed, Half willing, half reluctant, to be led, And leave his broken playthings on the floor, Still gazing at them through the open door; Nor wholly reassured and comforted By promises of others in their stead, Which, though more splendid, may not please him more; So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and, by the hand, Leads us to rest so gently, that we go Scarce knowing if we wished to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the _unknown transcends the 'what we know._'" "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."--1 Cor. xiii. 12. [Illustration] CHAPTER THE LAST. AT ABBOT'S LEIGH. The old year, which had been so full of trouble and sorrow, was passing gently away in calm and unusual brightness. The air was soft and balmy, and the sunshine lay upon the picturesque village of Abbot's Leigh, and threw out every yellow lichen on the red roofs of the houses, and every leafless branch of the trees in full brightness and defined outline. The year was full of grace and beauty on this its last day; and Gilbert Arundel, walking up and down the sunny terrace path before his house, on the left of the road leading to the church, felt the pleasant sense of returning strength and health, which is always so sweet. The garden was at the back of the house, and before him lay a goodly prospect. The lowlands, sloping down to the mouth of the Severn, were bathed in the sunshine, and beyond, in clear outline, was the great encircling range of blue mountains on the opposite coast of Wales. In the clear atmosphere of the winter morning, everything was distinctly seen. The wooded headland of Portishead shot out to the left, and was rounded at full tide by many ships, outward bound for the rolling waters of the Atlantic. Snowy gulls dipped and whirled on airy flight near the shore, and small crafts, with all sails set, danced and curtseyed beneath them as they made for the harbour. "It is a place to rest and get well in," Gilbert thought; and then he turned at the sound of footsteps.