From the deep fountains of her new nature gushed out streams of love, for all that God had made; for the more that she loved God, the truer, and more spiritual became her love for her fellow-men. Then the intimate relations between herself and Roland, the dear companionship, the old feelings of perfect trust and reverence, and the tender interest which enveloped her in such a mantle of protection, dwelt with her daily; and neither needed words to tell how truly they were one, nor with what unconscious, mysterious knowledge, they had read each other's hearts. Roland could not but feel "she loves me," and Madeline needed no language to make her understand how precious was the sacred bond which united their warm young hearts. The little children that assembled around her still in her Saturday-school, and her class on Sunday, all felt the sweet attraction--the dwellers at the cottages, Aunt Matilda, and the people in the kitchen, all realized that a warmer glow of love kindled in the young face, and sweeter words were breathed from her lips. Madeline was really living--for the heart had found objects on which to bestow its benevolence, and the feeling, day by day, was deepening, widening, as she felt truly "Jesus loves me, and I love him." As the guardian of her worldly concerns, she received frequent letters from Roland, full of kind advice and strengthening words. He had laid down for her a plan which she was eager to carry out, and it was a pretty picture to see the young girl with her little basket of books, tracts, and domestic comforts, sallying forth daily among her humble dependents. Hours for devotion, household cares, for reading, music, for exercise, for benevolence, were systematically arranged, and as carefully carried out; and while Aunt Matilda was yawning over want of occupation, and imagining headaches, indigestion, and countless other evils, Madeline scarcely found time for her numerous duties. She was very happy; for even while she missed the smile of her dear father's approval, was she not blessed with the assurance of his unspeakable gain? and did she not hope to join him at last in the better world, to part no more forever? Her cheek bloomed with brighter tints, her eye beamed with holier love, and her lips told tales of sweet inward peace and joy, drawn from the deep wells of salvation. She was learning some of Mozart's and Beethoven's finest music on her harp, and some sacred melodies for her voice; for she knew the style that pleased Roland, and was scarcely aware how all her occupations were mingled with the name of that precious friend. Sometimes, doubts and difficulties would obtrude themselves when reading the Scriptures, and then she would wish for her faithful guide. "Get Mr. Bruce's room ready, Mary," said Madeline to the chambermaid; "he will here to-morrow," and she spent much of her time in preparations for the welcome visitor.