And, with a few further directions, Miss Baylis disappeared. It was not possible for kind-hearted girls, however thoughtless, to hear with indifference of the sudden removal of one who had so lately stood among them, giving her orders for this ball-dress with the greatest interest and satisfaction. They remembered how they had admired her beauty, and envied her rank and station in life; how affably she had spoken to them, and how they had watched her graceful figure as she remounted the beautiful horse, which she told Miss Baylis was a birthday gift from her father the day before; and how she had glanced up toward their window, with consciousness that the eyes of some six or eight young people about her own age were earnestly and admiringly regarding her. And now—ah, what a painful contrast! "I declare I feel quite melancholy and miserable," said Ellen Saunders; "do make haste, Mary, and let us get over this gloomy work. I wish the poor thing had not been here so lately, it makes one think so much more about her." "I wonder if she knew that text, Mary—my text," said Jane softly as she helped Mary to fix the pattern about to be cut out. And in another minute a tear stole down the young milliner's cheek, observed only by the friend who understood and appreciated her feeling. "Let us hope that she did, dear Jane, and learn ourselves to value it, so as to be safe and happy in life or death." "But if she did not know what your mother says all must know who are saved, what then, Mary? So young, so pleasant, so happy!"—And Jane paused. "God's word must be true, Jane; we have nothing to do with applying it to any one's case but our own: only we know that the Judge of all the earth will do right. He has sent us a very solemn lesson, and our day of salvation is now; let us not neglect it, for it may soon be over forever." [Illustration: Jane Saunders.] It happened that Jane Saunders, being an excellent fitter, was sent to Mrs. M.'s to take the pattern for frocks for the children. She was shown into a large and handsome room, where the front shutters were closed, and a large blind hung to the ground, at the back window, excluding nearly all light, and the view of trees and flowers in the garden to which it opened. Jane sat waiting some time, feeling very sad and gloomy, and then the door was softly opened, and a little girl stole in with a frock in her hand. "If you please," said she in a low voice, "mamma cannot come to you, but she says you are to make it like this." "May I draw up this blind a little way, that I may see to take your pattern?" asked Jane, moving toward the back window. "Yes, I dare say you may, just for a minute, but there is no light anywhere in the house more than this; and poor mamma is ill with crying about dear Clara. Are you not sorry about her, too?" "Yes, dear, I am indeed, very sorry," said Jane, in a tone of sincere sympathy.