"Good night, Miss Madeline; I shall see you and Effie to-morrow;" for Roland felt that this heart-communion was becoming each moment more dangerous. "Who was that young man?" inquired Mary Trevor; "he is so noble-looking, and what a bow! quite the air of a prince!" "Poor and proud!" retorted Charles Davenport. "He is an early friend of mine, Mary. His name is Bruce." "O yes! he is in Mr. Thornly's office; I have met him there several times; he is a young man of fine talents, and quite an admirer of Helen Thornly; some say more." Madeline did not reply, but there was something in her heart that night, that made her feel very easy with regard to these rumors; at all events, Roland has lost none of his interest in his youthful friend, and Madeline dreamed about Woodcliff, and Maple Lane School, about the sea-shore, Uncle Peter, and a little shoe. Next morning, Roland called to see his sister, and was deeply pained at the evidences manifest of the affliction hanging over his darling Effie. Folding her in his arms, he pressed upon her sweet face the warm kisses of brotherly love. "Would, darling, that I could shelter you from the woes of life; but Effie, this is not our home; we are seeking a better one; and if for a little while our Father sees fit to close my sister's eyes, I will be eyes and everything else for her." "I know it, Roland; I am trying to school my heart; I know what is coming; each day the light becomes more dim; but the presence of my Saviour is always with me; I can still, with the eyes of my soul, 'Look aloft.' I have so many blessings, Roland; a pleasant home, good kind friends, a dear, dear brother, such a friend in Madeline, and the hope of Heaven always so bright." Roland smoothed the soft brown hair, kissed the pale forehead, and lifting up his voice, prayed so fervently for the dear stricken lamb, that Effie was comforted. A few more days, and the young girls returned to Woodcliff, with the sad certainty that nothing more could be done for Effie. Roland saw them safely in the cars, and promised to write frequently to his sister. "Remember your promise," was his last charge to Madeline. As soon as possible, she made preparations for her new effort; carefully concealing from her father and aunt the nature of her employment. She was some time deciding whether her hero should be a good or a bad boy; she tried both, but was dissatisfied. At last, she selected one from the very lowest walks of life, and the deepest degradation, raised by the power of Christian love to a post of useful, earnest piety. As her story progressed, she read each chapter to Effie, who was delighted at the genius manifested by her model friend. At length it was completed, and sent to Roland; nothing was heard of it for some time. So humble was her sense of its demerits, that Madeline looked daily for the return of her manuscript.