On Sunday morning, Roland accompanied Madeline, opened the services of the Sunday-school, and aided in teaching; in the afternoon, by the side of his young friend, and using the same book, he joined in the beautiful service which she loved, for he had outlived the prejudices of his childhood, and had learned to love goodness and truth wherever he saw it, or under whatever garb, and could now easily make allowances for the deep aversion of those days of persecution to the rigid ritualism which laid such heavy burdens upon the consciences of Christian men. While he remained at Woodcliff, one hour each morning was spent in studying the word of God, and his clear explanations greatly aided the young believer. "This is a pleasant evening, Madeline; shall we walk down to the shore? I must see the dear spot before I return to New York." "Wait a minute, Roland, I must get my hood and scarf; it is a little damp. Old Peter will be glad to see us, and I have something for him." "So have I," answered Roland. "He must be growing very old, for he was an aged man when we first came to Woodcliff, and that is seventeen years ago; I am now twenty-six." "And I twenty-one; and yet, Roland, I do not feel more than sixteen; I enjoy life as much as then, and I have just the same faith in goodness as I had at that age." They soon found themselves at the dear trysting place, and, seated on the rock, they gazed in silence upon the grand old ocean. Madeline was the first to speak. "Does it seem possible, Roland, that eleven years have passed since you stood there," pointing to a spot near them, "defending the poor little things who had lost their diamonds?" "And yet, Madeline, if we measure time by events, what a long life mine would seem! So full of trial, of blessing, and of stirring incident! What finger-posts of Providence have marked my way!" "How strange are its wondrous dealings, Roland! I ran down to the shore that evening with my dog Hector, just for a merry race and a wild romp with my good old playmate, and I found you--then a poor, threadbare boy, with a grand and noble soul--be still, Roland" (for he was about to speak), "I felt what was hidden under your worn-out jacket, child that I was; and I found such a friend! eternity only will reveal what you have been to wild, impulsive Madeline;" turning, with her young face all glowing, she added, "I fought your battles then, Roland, and I have done so ever since, for my childish instincts read truly."