"Those days are over, Roland,--what would you say if I were to tell you that I am now among the saints, though the very humblest of them all?" "What would I say, Stanley? Is it really so? Give me your hand, your old honest grasp, and let me clasp it as a Christian brother. How was it, Stanley? Tell me all about the great change." "It is told in a few words--the first sermon that I ever really heard, was preached at my sick-bed, by one who lived the Christian--it sank right down into my very soul; it spoke volumes to me; it haunted me night and day; for then I began to feel that I really was a miserable sinner. I tried to silence the voice, but it spoke deeper, louder. It followed me into the very dens of dissipated city life. God be praised that it did! I could obtain no rest. Suddenly, I gave up my evil ways, and my bad companions; and at a supper, where many of them were gathered, I publicly renounced them all--they were amazed; they tried the power of ridicule; but they knew Stanley, and soon left me to myself. I found peace in Jesus, and I am not ashamed, Roland, of the gospel of Christ--unworthy as I am, I am preparing to be an ambassador of him whom I once derided and persecuted." For a moment Roland was silent. He remembered the earnest, fervent prayers, which he had poured out in behalf of Stanley; the answer had been long delayed, but it had come at last. They left the room arm in arm, Christian brothers. Roland was full of joyful anticipation, for he knew the earnest character of this young man, and believed that, like a second Paul, he would preach the everlasting gospel. Introducing him into the family of Mr. Thornly, he was frequently in his society, and found what he had long desired, a fellow-laborer in his Master's cause. Helen was interested in the bold young champion of truth, for she was herself becoming daily more devoted to the cause of the Redeemer, less assimilated to the spirit of the world. With her father's full consent, she took an open stand with the friends of Jesus, and from that day, her course was upward and onward in the Christian life. Madeline occasionally visited New York on business, for she was still engaged in writing her little books--entirely separated from the gay world, not only by her mourning dress, but by deliberate choice, she was only found in the domestic circles of intimate friends. She was still annoyed by the public attentions of Henry Castleton, for personal vanity had made him blind to the positive aversion of his cousin Madeline. Lavinia is now on a visit to New York, and is spending an evening at Helen Thornly's, in company with a few friends, among whom is Henry Castleton. The conversation turns upon a party where the two had met. "Really!" said Lavinia, with a toss of her proud head, "go where you will, one must meet with the parvenues of society; did you observe that Miss Digby dressed out in her diamonds and point lace, for such a small social party?"