"I meant you to see it, it is from Mr. Courtenay about the Confirmation."

Virginia opened it slowly. It was succinct and to the purpose, merely stating that he had heard that there was to be a private Confirmation held at S. Bartholomew's, N.E., and that having applied to the Incumbent, he had obtained permission for Miss Randall to join it, as hers was a peculiar case. Therefore as the Confirmation was to take place in about six weeks, he thought it would be best to begin Virginia's preparation at once, naming the time most convenient to himself to see her, which happened to be directly after evensong, twice a week. Virginia read and re-read the letter, scanning every word, and when she had finished this minute scrutiny her brother said,

"It is a kind letter, is it not? and it is good of him to have taken so much trouble about it," and then he added, a little anxiously, "you are not afraid of going to him, Virgie ?"

"No, not afraid, but Mr. Courtenay will have to begin at the beginning of everything with me. I know simply nothing about religion.

This latter remark was left unanswered as Miss Brereton was heard calling Virginia, and she hurried from the room; and it was not till after dinner that she could gain time to look at her correspondence. Knowing what Joan's letter would in all probability contain, (the address of some servant of whom they had been speaking) Virginia read her other letters first, and then turned to Miss Staley's, her head full of other things. Mechanically, almost purposelessly she read it through to the end, but the postscript roused her wholly, "Reginald is going to Scotland for grouse shooting, the day after to-morrow, all well, he has so much business to settle at the 'House' before he sets off, that he fears it will be impossible to come and call on Miss Brereton and you, but I was to be sure and give you all many messages from him. When he is once with the Macleans, there is no saying when we shall see him back." Relief was the first sensation Virginia experienced, as she read these words, relief that hundreds of miles would soon separate them; but this was quickly followed by remorse, for ever since the day they had parted, she had been feeling more and more sorry for all she had said to him during their last interview. He had never been to the house since, though Nina had often walked with him and Joan. Once or twice she had been on the point of writing to him to beg his forgiveness, so grieved did she feel at her own violent and uncharitable speeches, but something always held her back at this juncture, fearing such a

step would be unmaidenly and wrong. However, that evening, something occurred which determined her upon her mode of action, a determination which she never repented. The last post brought a letter for her, the handwriting of which she knew only too well, without turning to the signature at the end, Reginald Knowles Staley! For a moment the insane idea crossed her brain that he had written to beg that all might be as heretofore between them, and with the thought came such a rapid beating at her heart, that she was forced to sit down. But ere the letter was opened she saw this could not be, and of course was so convinced as she read it slowly through. It was a peculiar epistle, evidently written under an impulse, very much blotted and hurried, he said he wanted her forgiveness for the way in which he had treated her for the last three months, that he could not leave England till she had pardoned him, and more to that effect. Then came a more sensible piece written carefully and with more thought. "Every day I feel more and more influenced by Nina: though I am determined not to act towards her as I have done to you. She is little more than a child, and I have determined to accept Mr. Maclean's invitation, solely in order that I may have plenty of time to prove and try my love for her. If at my return I still feel as I do now with regard to her, then, I think I may safely ask her to be my wife; but before I go, let me have a proof of your forgiveness, Virginia, if it be but a word. I have behaved rashly and like a fool, but believe me, I had no desire to pain you, am not worthy of you, you are far above me in every possible way, and I can only beg of you to forgive my presumption, in ever asking you to bind yourself to such an one as I am : all you must do now is to forget me." After reading this letter, Virginia was not long in making up her mind how to act. Before she retired to rest, that very night she wrote to him, freely forgiving him all, begging pardon for all her own harsh speeches, and hoping in all sincerity that his future might be bright and fair.

In case Virginia's conduct is misconstrued, it may be best to say, in passing, that this action of hers was perfectly compatible with her position regarding Reginald Staley. Hers was a generous temperament, and the keenness of the sorrow she was enduring, far from making her wish others to participate in it, was the very thing which guided her to reassure and forgive the other. It may be said, that such a temper of mind could not have been gained in so short a time, but it must be remembered that nearly a fortnight had elapsed since she parted

I

with Reginald, and that there is nothing which ripens and determines actions so completely and quickly, as deep or strong feelings of any kind, be they painful or pleasant. Now all bitterness and anger were gone from Virginia's heart, though the grief still remained. She had learnt however that sorrow should not be given way to in excess, and as a kind of duty she endeavoured to exercise self-control, even when alone. After the letter was gone, she did not begin to review her position or go over again all the old causes for regret and sorrow, but steadily set herself to learn to live in the future. Not that she felt her sorrow less, far from that, nor is it meant that in conforming to God's blessed Will we should become callous and indifferent to pain, but only that we should endeavour to accept the trial readily, seeing in it the manifestation of Divine Love. It was thus that Virginia was trying to act now. These last few days of sorrow, borne unshrinkingly, had taught her much-how sorrow is sent to bring us to GOD, to give us a share in the Sufferings of the Beloved SON, while He Who sends the cross endues with needed strength to bear it aright. Submission is a temperament difficult to gain, and Virginia did not find it easier to attain than others have done: but her will was right, and though despondency would often cloud the hopes of the future, and discontent threaten to upset the slow work of months, yet, in time, she learnt to bear her cross, sweetly, even thankfully, as through it she rose to a true conformity with GOD's holy Will.

Friday came, the first day fixed for Virginia to see Mr. Courtenay. She went to evensong at S. Margaret's (as she now did every evening,) and when the service was concluded, Mr. Courtenay came from the vestry, and beckoned her to him. Naturally she felt nervous, but as she was particularly free from self-consciousness, she met the Priest with perfect simpleness and candour. He spoke chiefly of the position of the Church, the efficacy of her Sacraments, confirmation, confession, and above all the Holy Eucharist, so that when, at the expiration of an hour, she went home, she wondered how it was possible she could have lived so many years without having recourse to all the privileges within her reach. Evered talked daily with her, and helped her in her preparation, explaining all difficulties, and clearing away all stumblingblocks. He carefully shielded her from all controversy and hearing disputes on religious subjects, and so the Catholic Truth was set before her in its entirety, and she accepted it readily, determining from the very first to follow implicitly the precepts of the Church. Miss Brereton

was far too liberal-minded to interfere with any one's religious principles, and though some things her niece now practised for the first time appeared to her far-fetched and needless, she loved her too well to make remarks or intermeddle with her opinions. Cornelia would laugh sometimes and say she wondered Virginia had “turned saint,” but now that Evered was able to be more down-stairs, she was compelled, from an habitual feeling of awe of her brother to restrain, in some measure the levity, which might otherwise have been very painful to her sister. At the close of one of the many long talks between Evered and Virginia, the latter took courage to ask of her brother an explanation of that part of their first memorable conversation, which she had not understood. There was some hesitation in her voice as she began, for she felt strangely shy of broaching this particular topic, (otherwise she would have brought it up long ago,) but on the other hand, to remain in ignorance would, she knew, involve more dissatisfaction, than the passing reluctance she now felt in naming it. Accordingly she said,

"There is something I want to ask you about, Evered, concerning our conversation the other day. One thing you said puzzled me so much that I am going to beg you to explain it."

"What is it?" said Evered, smiling, "I can't explain unless I know the subject."

"You said we must not think to share our hearts between GOD and others. Now I don't understand. It seems to me as if it couldn't be either true or right that there should be no thorough deep love from one fellow-creature to another in this world. I am sure there are quantities of good people, married people I mean, who love their husbands very much indeed, and yet are able to love God too."

"It is a question which may well perplex you, as it has done many others," answered Evered: "and one which I am glad you have spoken about. Most certainly it is not right for any one to imagine that 'thorough' love, as you call it, is not to be given by one person to another. All the difference lies in whether we love that one object in GOD, or whether we make it an idol, and expend all our love's strength upon it, rather than on GOD, in Whom every creature should be loved. Our love for Him should exalt and raise all earthly love, even the very highest, by which He has deigned to typify the relation between Himself and His Church, I mean that between husband and wife."

He paused, thinking Virginia might like to speak, but as she was silent he continued,

'Loving our fellow-creatures is the test whether we love GOD, so that great care should be taken to hold no false notion about this matter. But then again we are told, 'He that loveth father or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me,' showing us that GOD expects us to love Him before any other being, because He is GOD, and has so loved us, whereas, if we place any one before Him, we make an idol of that person, inasmuch as we have put him in the place of GOD, and (so to speak) worship the creature. Therefore all earthly love must be given in and through GOD; and those who do this, find the love far sweeter, purer, more noble than if it were given in a sensual way. Often when GOD sees we are making too much of earthly love, leaning too much upon it, He takes it away, that we may learn to rest on Him alone."

Over the last few words Evered had hesitated slightly, and when he ceased to speak, there were several minutes' silence. Virginia sat perfectly still, her face so turned away that he could not see the effect of his words.

"Forgive me," he said at last, breaking the complete silence, "but am I wrong in believing that it has been thus with you-that God has taken away the earthly idol, and has given Himself instead ?"

"Yes," answered Virginia simply, "it has been so, but let us never speak of this again."

Stay, Virginia, you are vexed," her brother cried, as she rose to leave the room, "I do hope I have not caused you pain? I never meant to do so."

She turned, and though her face was sad, too sad for one so young, there was no bitterness either in it or her voice as she said,

No, you have caused me no pain; I am glad, very glad you spoke, Evered, only no one must know this, for unless you had guessed, you would have been as ignorant of it as others will be. I was bound in all honour to keep his secret," and then she went away.

She will make a nobler woman than ever I shall a man," thought Evered, "she will never regret her exchange, for He will give her Himself undividedly," and then he thanked GOD that his prayer was answered.

In the evening of the same day on which this conversation took place, Miss Brereton retained her nephew as he was retiring for the night, with the question,