working out the problem in a more practical mode than over books and slates."

And I," said Mabel, "found myself wishing you were a veritable Ladye Geraldine, that we might have alighted on this rock in a less breathless state. I shall begin to think you quite a safe mortal companion, though for that matter I believe you are said to employ your magic only in the service of humanity."

Geraldine's smile, though sweet, was rather grave, and a low sigh accompanied her playful words, "I shall exhaust the virtue of my spells in trying to cast such a glamour over you, as shall ensure my not being forgotten at the vicarage when I am far away in India."

A keen pang shot through Mabel's heart, and she did not attempt replying. She had grown conscious latterly of an aversion to the mere passing mention of India. It was a theme which instinct taught her to avoid, by the oppressive pain on which she would not dwell long enough to define its origin.

At this instant the glare of sunshine was subdued by the soft shadow of a fleecy cloud, and the colossal Lion stood out with startling distinctness from the rocky masses which surrounded him, rearing his shaggy form against the deep blue background of the autumn sky.

What a strange freak of nature's chiselling!" exclaimed Geraldine, as she seized her sketching book. "It is to me an invaluable study, for I have long exercised my pencil with especial reference to the Rock Temples of India."

"And when shall you return to us laden with your artistic trophies from the East?" asked Mabel in a voice which she strove in vain to steady.

Geraldine hesitated, her habitual thoughtfulness leading her to consider how far she might venture without causing pain. Although with no conception of the reverential and impassioned love she had inspired, she yet saw in Mabel the germ of a strong attachment to herself, and she would gladly have evaded the inquiry which her companion anxiously repeated.

'Humanly speaking, India is to be our home for life," she at length said reluctantly. "Ernest's health depends on a residence within the tropics; he is a child of the sun, and always droops even in southern Europe. It was a hard struggle to resign the charge of his beloved parish in Ireland, but God has not excluded him from active usefulness. His sphere is only changed to a more distant part of the same vineyard."

"And do you also bid home and friends farewell for ever?" asked Mabel reproachfully, her feelings towards the absent missionary priest taking a tinge which if not strictly commendable when viewed in the light of charity, was at least not unnatural under existing circum

stances.

"Ernest is my chief earthly treasure, my one dearest tie in life," said Geraldine with fervour. "I bless GOD that He has called me to watch over my only brother, and as far as in me lies, share his devoted labours."

"But if Mr. Beverley should marry, and no longer need you?" suggested Mabel, with exemplary regard to the domestic welfare of her rival.

"I should try not to be jealous of my new sister," replied Geraldine slightly amused, "but the contingency seems a remote one at this present. Ernest may die," she added with a quivering lip, “but in that case I have pledged him my word that, GOD permitting, I shall spend my life among the ladies of the Mission seeking to further the good work according to his views and wishes."

As each fresh avenue of hope was closed, Mabel struggled more feebly against her growing despondency, until, suddenly bursting into tears, she seized Geraldine's hand, as though the India-bound ship were even then riding at anchor in the peaceful haven of S. Agnes. "May Bird, my own poor little darling, I was selfish and unkind, can you forgive me?" asked Geraldine in a tone of self-reproach.

Mabel's reply was to draw Geraldine's arm more closely around her, and a long silence followed, only interrupted by the surging of the ocean at their feet. The scene was wild, desolate and depressing, yet almost devotional in its intensity of calm. The very stillness soothed Mabel's excitability, for she felt the repose of solitude without its isolation. Geraldine was beside her, and all trouble seemed to melt away beneath the charm of that dearly-loved voice and smile. The difference age between the two was trifling, yet even those four years sufficed to mark the boundary line which divides early youth from mature womanhood.

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Human affection, when sincere and guileless, must ever be viewed as a treasure beyond price, but the confiding love of those who in any degree cling to us for protection, is a gift for which we must render at the last day a strict account. Geraldine Beverley now realized in a great measure the ascendancy she had unconsciously acquired over

Mabel. She was well aware that hers must be the ruling spirit in their intercourse, her influence direct and indirect, mighty for evil or for good. To one who dwelt habitually in the light of eternity, such thoughts could not fail to inspire awe, yet Geraldine's sweet face still bore its wonted impress of repose, while none could have divined that the grave gentle kiss imprinted upon Mabel's forehead was the pledge of a responsibility accepted, and the seal of an unspoken benediction.

Hope is our normal state while we are very young, and Mabel's spirits soon regained their elasticity. Geraldine was not leaving home for an entire year; who could say what might not occur during that interval to change her plans, or delay their fulfilment ? Besides, Christians were told not to look forward to the morrow, and the precept being in accordance with the temporary bias of her own will, was with scrupulous fidelity reduced to actual practice.

"Do you know, Ladye Geraldine," she presently began, speaking with her accustomed animation, "I think the more truly one loves people, the easier it is to live without them."

Geraldine laughed quite merrily as she replied, "O, Mabel, you do wisely in appealing to my supernatural powers! Confess one must call in the aid of magic as a clue through the mazes of such mystical philosophy."

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"Christian philosophy, you mean," returned Mabel emphatically. "I never can make Lilian comprehend, but I expected you would both understand and agree with me."

Geraldine secretly pitied poor Lilian for the endless series of perplexities in which such lucid statements must involve a mind not naturally prone to abstract reasoning. As for herself she held the key to most of Mabel's theories, and to this among the rest.

"You mean where one loves people in the right way it is easier to live apart from them; is not that what you would express, dear child? One feels that mere bodily absence does not involve separation, and that affection built upon the only sure foundation shares the unchangeableness of the religion around which it is entwined."

"Yes; Christianity intensifies every strong tie," said Mabel, "and I think all very deep love is essentially devotional."

"Such is its tendency, no doubt," continued Geraldine, “and I can never understand why many earnest persons fancy that to cherish the sweet tie of Christian brotherhood must almost necessarily lead to idolatry. They speak of turning from the Fountain to the streams,

and cannot be convinced we find refreshment in the streams simply because they flow forth from the Fountain."

"Uncle Harland once alluded to that error in a sermon," pursued Mabel, "and he said it was a very great though common mistake, springing from a confusion of ideas. He thinks we are too apt to separate our mutual love as Christians from our love to CHRIST, as though the one were opposed to the other, whereas in reality we are but drawn together the more closely because of our all owning one and the same centre of adoration."

"Ernest has often expressed the same conviction nearly in your uncle's words," said Geraldine. "He thinks that a clearer perception of this truth would be a help to conscientious and warm-hearted persons, who would thus be freed from those fruitless endeavours to uproot human affection which have more or less marked the monastic life in every age."

"We must hope that they will not mark English Monasticism," returned Mabel. "I have been often told that in no branch of the Church Catholic is a real practical belief in the Communion of Saints so widely spread as in our own."

"One marvels it should not pervade all Christendom," said Geraldine; "it seems not only the most precious heritage religion can bequeath to us, but an essential part of Christianity itself. Then in its steadfastness it is so exquisitely adapted to life in a changeful world, securing us from isolation, and preserving us in close fellowship with the blessed, be our lot cast where it may."

"That yearning desire for Unity seems now becoming universal," pursued Mabel. "Turn where one may, one still hears the reechoing of S. Paul's spirit, where he embraces all who in every place call upon the Name of our LORD JESUS CHRIST, both theirs and

"Yes," resumed Geraldine, with thoughtfulness; "and surely in that cry for Unity uprising now from east and west, we may with reverence mark the answer to our SAVIOUR's dying prayer. For centuries has it re-echoed in faint whisperings from individual hearts, but it is now heard in the mighty utterance of the long-severed Churches, rather we should say, the Branches of the only true Catholic Church."

There was again silence after Geraldine's last words, while each dwelt on the thrilling memories they had awakened. Then Mabel collecting all the scattered pencils, observed with reluctance, "I sup

pose we ought to rejoin Lilla and Dr. Lawson, lest they should be led to fit out an exploring expedition upon our behalf."

"Or possibly invoke the spirit of Jules Gérard to defend us against his leonine majesty," pursued Geraldine, as with a last glance at the uncouth stony monster, she linked her arm in Mabel's, and began the slippery descent.

Having re-crossed the isthmus, a short stroll sufficed to bring them to the lighthouse, which stood nearly in the centre of the island. Its walls composed of solid masonry, were dazzlingly white, and its surroundings evinced the most perfect neatness and care, though Mabel would not own that it admitted of comparison with its more eminent rival at Lizard Town. The two young ladies met with a kind welcome from the inmates, who led them into a pleasant parlour, where they might rest while awaiting Lilian and Dr. Lawson. They found ample amusement in conversing with their hostess; glancing over the gaily-covered books on the round centre-table, and admiring the flamingcoloured prints of Etna and Vesuvius, which adorned the walls. Geraldine combined with her retiring delicacy, the enviable gift of adaptation to new scenes and persons, and she now sat in the lonely little beacon at S. Agnes, looking scarcely less at home than at S. Mary's vicarage, or in her aunt's drawing-room, at Content. Already she and Mrs. Luff found they possessed a fund of mutual interests, and Mabel listened with a secret hope that the remainder of the group would be late at the trysting place. There was exquisite pleasure in watching Geraldine, and noting how the magic of her sympathy seemed to elicit some response from every heart. Would she in the same way find points of meeting with the native Hindoos, Christianized and Heathen? Mabel was lost in speculations on this subject, and the conversation was sustained by Geraldine's unaided efforts, until Lilian appeared accompanied by Mr. Mortimer and Dr. Lawson.

When the accustomed greetings were exchanged, Mrs. Luff led the way up a succession of steep winding staircases to the summit of the tall grey tower. It was the first lighthouse interior which Geraldine had seen, and she stood long watching the silvery-burnished reflectors slowly revolving by the means of clock-work. Then they stepped out upon the open gallery, whence Mr. Mortimer pointed out every object worthy of remark, including his own modest parsonage, of scarcely more pretension than the farms and cottages around it.

"I had hoped for the privilege of offering you luncheon, Miss Be