Aunt Matilda found that although her niece treated her with respect and affection, in the choice of her guardian she had exercised the liberty which her father had given her, and the good lady had quietly to submit. The respectful reverence with which Roland treated Madeline's aunt almost disarmed her opposition to this intimacy, and would have done so entirely, could she have divested herself of the fear that Roland might some day be more than guardian. After tea, Madeline led Roland to the drawing-room. "I have learned some new music just for you, guardian," and she played some of her finest pieces with exquisite taste and execution. "How can people like polkas and waltzes after such music as this?" said Roland; "it seems to speak so truly the language of the soul." "I have some beautiful sacred melodies, and I want you to learn them to sing with me, guardian, your voice is so good." It was amusing to see Madeline assume the office of teacher, and when he would make mistakes, with an arch expression around her mouth, to hear her say-- "What a dumb scholar! don't you see that you are singing the wrong note? I am so glad that there is something I can do better than you." It was a laughing lesson, with Roland's blunders, and Madeline's pretended reproofs, and the pat of the little hand on his head when he succeeded. "Don't be affronted, guardian, for I really do entertain a profound respect for you, though not much wholesome fear; that is rather out of my sphere, good sir." After sundry trials, they succeeded admirably, and Madeline's sweet treble, with Roland's rich tenor voice, made truly delightful music. "That's a good boy, Roland! you shall have a treat for your performance," and Madeline ordered a _tête-a-tête_ supper before retiring, with just such viands as Roland liked. "Shall I see you to-morrow in the library, Madeline?" was Roland's request, as he bade "good-night." "Yes, at nine o'clock; I shall be occupied until that time." A full hour was spent in transacting some business attendant upon his office, and, at the close, Madeline, with a sweet, serious face, seated herself on a lower seat by the side of her guardian. "I have wanted you lately, Roland, I have been so troubled when reading the Scriptures; I don't know what can be the matter, but my mind has been so disturbed by doubts and difficulties, that they have clouded my peace, and perplexed me so much." "Are they connected with your duties, Madeline?" "No, Roland; they are about deep, inscrutable mysteries that I cannot understand," and Madeline, from a full heart, poured out all her tale of doubts and trials into the ears of one ever ready and able to counsel and aid her trembling steps.