They enjoy self-contentment in a larger measure than the army ranged under the motto, Excelsior, at any rate. But if I delay longer, Miss May Bird, I may be too late to choose your specimens. You need not tell me you care more about my fever-patients, I should not believe it," and with a merry parting salutation, Dr. Lawson set out on his mission of beneficence.

"Now do not let me keep you for another instant,” began Geraldine, when they were left alone. "Your pupils must already have lost patience, and indeed with reason. May I stay in the porch until you shall have finished, or would they feel my being here any restraint ?"

"Please come and sit beside me," answered Mabel with that gracious courtesy which seeks to make a stranger feel at ease by leading him to share in the pursuit he may have interrupted. "Mrs. Lawson tells me you have a taste for sacred music, and when we dismiss the children I shall so like to consult with you about the chanting of the Benedictus upon Christmas Day."

Miss Beverley consented, and the two ladies joined the band of choristers who had been faultlessly decorous during the long interval of waiting. The practising was soon resumed, and Geraldine listened in silence until Mabel asked whether she did not sing, when she at once joined with a singularly true although not powerful contralto. Mabel could hardly restrain her delight. The anthem was now really practicable; it could be sustained by herself, Lilian, and Miss Beverley, and they would have a simple chorus, in which some of the school-children might unite. Meanwhile the carol was postponed, because the afternoon had sped so rapidly that barely enough time remained to perfect the hymn which had been selected for the coming festival. The air was one sung at the Clewer House of Mercy to the words,

"For thee, O dear, dear Country!"

and was admirably rendered by the choir after a few attempts.

"Remember, we must meet on Wednesday for an extra practising," said Mabel. “I believe you may go now, for we shall not have any new music the day after to-morrow. The Canticles and Gloria will be the same we had on Sunday, and the Communion Hymn 'Thee we adore.'

"Shall you really have that exquisite Adoro Te?" inquired Miss Beverley, as the last boy quitted the chancel.

"Yes, at the mid-day celebration; I am so glad that you like it," rejoined Mabel.

"It is the one I love best in the whole collection," answered Geraldine with earnestness, "the music and the words seem so exactly suited to each other."

"Suppose we try it now," suggested Mabel; "will not you play the accompaniment ?"

Geraldine readily complied, and intense feeling enabled her to throw such a depth of expression into voice and instrument, that Mabel felt as though the composition so well known to her were now for the first time interpreted aright.

What a new world of meaning you have drawn from that old Gothic harmony!" she cried involuntarily, "and yet, Miss Beverley, I think you care chiefly about the subject, am I not right ?"

"The subject? yes indeed!" said Geraldine emphatically, and as though rather astonished at the question.

Mabel's sense of repose in presence of Miss Beverley deepened into instinctive love and confidence. It was a somewhat strange first interview. They had already wandered far beyond the track of mere conventionality, and were conversing on a theme common indeed to Christians, yet perhaps seldom discussed in private, except by friends of close personal intimacy and affection. Mabel had been trained in an atmosphere of such expansiveness that she did not perceive this fact, but her companion, early cast upon the world, had unavoidably acquired more of reserve. Now she was conscious of a slight embarrassment, as though she felt herself to have been led by impulse further than she could have wished, and she was just considering how to divert the topic, when unconsciously Mabel came to her aid by quietly pursuing the point which had first engaged them, as though taking for granted their oneness of interest in the subject.

"The number of communicants has much increased latterly," she observed, "and we have now a celebration on all Sundays and Saints' days. Had you the same in Ireland, Miss Beverley ?"

"Yes, in my brother's parish," replied Geraldine, "but since he went to India three months ago, I have been living in a rather obscure village, where Church privileges are at a low ebb."

"In that respect you will feel more at home in Scilly," remarked Mabel.

"Yes indeed; I esteem it a great blessing that my last year in Eng

land should be spent with such dear relatives as Uncle Edward and Aunt Isabel, and under the devoted pastoral care of Mr. Harland.”

"Will you not help me to direct our little choir ?" continued Mabel. "With much pleasure; and I hope your uncle will command my services if I can be in any way useful in working under him."

"He will provide ample employment for us all," replied Mabel, "and strange as it may seem to you, Lilla and I are really kept more busy here than we were at Penjenick."

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That I can quite well understand," said Geraldine, "but it is growing late. Had we not better choose your music, and set out upon our walk ?"

66

"Perhaps so," answered Mabel, as she turned the pages of her Manual of Plain Song. See, I do not quite like the tones to which Helmore has set the Benedictus. They are impressive, certainly, but I have never thought them suited to the words. They seem to me wanting in tenderness and sweetness."

"Why not select the Tonus Peregrinus ?" asked Miss Beverley, after a moment's thought. "That combines every possible requisite, even apart from its associations."

I did not know it possessed any legendary claim upon our veneration," rejoined Mabel with surprise.

"It has nevertheless one of surpassing interest," resumed Geraldine, though as you have divined, it is a mere tradition. It is said to have been the air sung by our Blessed LORD and His disciples after the Institution of the Holy Eucharist, before they went forth to the Mount of Olives."

She struck the chords from memory as she spoke, and Mabel listened with a look of such intent devotion, that Miss Beverley turned towards her, saying with a smile,

す

"The idea is most thrilling, but remember, I have not been stating to you a new article of faith, only a vague tradition, resting so far as I can learn upon no adequate authority."

"Can it be easily adapted to these words ?" asked Mabel, without heeding the comment. "The children as yet only sing by ear; they have not the least scientific knowledge."

"So much the better for our present purpose," replied Geraldine; "they will be guided wholly by our voices, and for us the musical notation is quite simple. See, the pointing is almost the same in the Psalms to which Helmore has affixed this tone, and in the Benedictus."

Mabel carefully verified the statement, and then of her own accord closed the harmonium. She was worn out by pleasurable excitement, and a feverish brilliancy of eye and cheek testified to her utter unfitness for anything beyond the stillness of her little chamber at the Vicarage, or at the most, a soothing twilight talk with Lilian.

CHAPTER X.

THE afternoon and evening spent by Mabel at Content proved in fact too exciting for a nervous temperament already overwrought. She was exhausted by the number of fresh ideas and variety of occupations to which it had given rise; happy indeed beyond expression, but too much so for her physical well being. She and Miss Beverley had tried duets, vocal and instrumental, they had marked out an elaborate course of reading, and a series of botanical and sketching rambles; discussed various systems of education, and plunged deep into the question of Monastic Orders versus District Visiting. Finally, as the climax of fatigue, Mrs. Lawson insisted on ascending to Star Castle after dusk, because the evening chanced to be particularly favourable for a first view of those light-houses of which the mere mention aroused all the dormant perversity of Mabel's nature.

To the Star Castle they climbed accordingly, and certain it is that before descending from the height on which the modern fortress stands, Mabel's enthusiasm almost rivalled that of her tormentor. The scene was indeed poetic and ideal in the extreme. A full moon veiled by fleeting shadows cast mysterious gleams over the lonely moor which stretched beyond the Castle, and brought out into massy relief two watch-towers of more ancient date, which seemed each to hold solitary ward against some host of unseen enemies. At noon-tide, glittering fairy islets were distinctly visible, now they could only be discerned as ebon masses, streaked along the outer curves with evanescent silver. Far out at sea, burning with steadfast lustre, shone the light on Bishop's Rock, while near at hand was the revolving beacon of S. Agnes, "royally bright" for a few seconds, then passing through its phase of transient dimness to burst forth again upon the sight in renewed splendour. There is an old proverb to the effect that “virtue brings its own reward," but to that promised recompense Mabel was not entitled, since she had, as she complacently expressed it, "indulged Mrs. Lawson" quite against her own will, and from sheer

necessity. However there had been some slight effort of principle in her resolve to yield a cheerful acquiescence, although conscience whispered to the wayward child that small credit was due to her for the performance of an irksome duty in Miss Beverley's companionship. Long afterwards Mabel remembered that first evening walk with Geraldine, feeling the terrace of Star Castle sacred ground from its associations with one so beloved. And when their outward intercourse had ceased for ever upon earth, next to the little church, Mabel's affections centred in the chastened but unwavering radiance of the Bishop's Light, viewing therein a symbol of the gentle Christian spirit by which she had been upheld and guided, amid her sincere but changeful aspirations after holiness and heaven.

Mental exhaustion seldom brings repose, even in youth, and Mabel returned to the vicarage with such a throbbing brow and fevered pulse as rendered sleep impossible. The next morning she was obliged to keep her bed, and forego any other exertion than that of listening with closed eyes while Lilian read aloud the Psalms and Lessons. Dr. Lawson's absence from S. Mary was beginning to cause some uneasiness, when much to the relief of Lilian and her uncle the young invalid awoke late in the afternoon from a refreshing sleep, looking a little pale and languid, but in all other respects nearly the same as usual. May Bird affirmed that she had not been in the least wearied by conversing with Miss Beverley, quite the reverse, her slight indisposition was to be solely attributed to Mrs. Lawson and the light-houses. They had stood rather long upon the height, and there was always something which told on one's nerves in these late expeditions, for just then Mabel found it convenient to ignore both her reluctant tribute of admiration, and a certain pet theory relating to the sedative influence of night air. With her quick insight into character, Lilian at once saw that Miss Beverley must be exonerated, and accordingly all blame was laid upon the unoffending beacons.

The evening glided tranquilly away. Mabel, although sighing for a return to active life, consented with a good grace to remain in her own room provided she might write a line desiring Miss Beverley to take her rightful place near the harmonium as our contralto." Lilian wisely granted permission, and when once the hurried pencil-note had been despatched, the restless and refractory young patient yielded to the healthful slumber which was stealing over her, and which proved a more sovereign restorative than any Dr. Lawson's skill could have devised.