Marion saw that she was unwelcome, and was somewhat offended by what she thought pride in the manner of the steward's wife. "I'm not wanted here," thought the girl; and suddenly remembering that Miss Edith would expect her at home, she rose and hurried out of the cottage.

No sooner had Marion departed than the heart of Rebekah smote her. She had missed the very opportunity which Mr. Eardley had foreseen when he had said, "There will be times when Marion will yearn for maternal kindness, and these will be the moments for making an impression on her mind." Rebekah felt that a few kind words of sympathy responsive to the chord which had been touched in the orphan's heart, an invitation to her to join in quiet devotions, a readiness to welcome one who came to her cottage as a refuge from unkindness, might have been the beginning of a closer intimacy which would have resulted in good. Now Marion had gone to fritter away in idle gossip an hour which might have been spent in holy worship, deepening in her mind any impressions which her pastor's teaching might have left. She had left the cottage disgusted with a cold reception, and perhaps laying to the account of the Christian's "strict notions," what was the imperfection of the woman. Rebekah sat down and reflected; she was becoming conscious that there must be something defective in her own religion, for it neither gave her much comfort in trouble, nor made her con

sistent in the common affairs of life. It had not rendered her a comforting help-meet to her husband, nor a judicious mother to her son, it had not made her perform well either her household or her social duties. She had not followed the Lord fully; she had but given the slow careless service of a bondwoman, not the free joyous service of a child. Had she not been sleeping on the path to heaven, and might not the very trials that oppressed her be sent to rouse her, and wake her to a sense of what it is to glorify God both with body and soul? Selfdenial, wisdom, faith, had they appeared in her life ; had her course been such that the world must see in her one of the children of light?

There are too many believers like Rebekah, who by their infirmities and inconsistencies bring discredit on the cause that they love. They are conscious that they are not what they ought to be, that they are not what they wish to be, but indolence clogs them on their upward path. They settle down into a listless state in which enjoyment even of life's blessings becomes a scarcely possible thing; they are uneasy, they cannot tell why; discontented, without cause for complaint; and they are singled out by the worldly as examples of the gloominess brought on by religion. Sometimes misfortune is sent as a "veiled angel" to such, and the feeble branch is pruned in order that it may bring forth abundance of fruit.

XII.

Temptation.

S Rebekah was engaged with her reading, she was startled by a sudden crash at the window. A handful of stones had been

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flung against the glass with no feeble hand; several panes of the lattice were smashed; a beautiful flower which had stood on the sill was knocked over, and the floor was strewn with fragments of broken glass, crockery, and mould.

Rebekah was not only started but alarmed. The mischief done could not possibly be the result of accident; it must be a deliberate expression of the malice of which she and her husband were the objects. Mrs. Holdich felt afraid either to go near the window or to open the door, and it was not until several minutes had elapsed that she summoned courage enough to try and ascertain by whom the insult had been offered.

Quiet and peaceful lay Nature around. As Rebekah entered her little garden, she could hear nothing but the warble of the happy songsters in the trees, and the droning buzz of the great bee as he

hovered over the flowers. Not many yards from the cottage, however, Rebekah detected on the sod the mark of a large nailed boot, which she knew well did not belong either to her husband or her son. It was then no child that had done the wanton mischief. It might be but the first of a series that must destroy her peace, and might even endanger her safety.

With a gloomy feeling of apprehension Mrs. Holdich returned to her cottage, carefully shutting and then bolting the door, a precaution which she had never before taken in the day time. She slowly, one by one, raised the broken pieces from the floor, constantly pausing to listen, and glancing uneasily up at the lattice.

"Life will be intolerable here," thought Rebekah, "if I am constantly to be exposed to annoyances ́ such as this. Who knows what more terrible shape the hatred of these wicked beings may take! I shall be wretched if Robert be ever later than usual in returning home, especially when the days shorten, and he must come back after dark. Would that we had never seen Castle Lestrange! And now we cannot leave it, poverty ties us to it as to a stake, to be baited by malice, hatred, and slander, from which we have no power to escape."

Rebekah felt her trial the more bitter, because she had been a prime cause of bringing her family into it. Holdich had been doubting between taking

his present situation, and that of manager of the estate of a retired Liverpool merchant; when Rebekah had thrown all the weight of her influence into the baronet's scale. Castle Lestrange, the old romantic residence of a noble family, had attractions for her imaginations which Bothan House could never possess. Advantages and disadvantages being nearly equally divided, Holdich had allowed his wife's wishes to turn the scale of his decision. Bitterly now did the steward's wife regret the part which she had taken. She suffered from actual personal fear. A timid sensitive woman might be pardoned, if in a lonely cottage, with not a friend within call, and the knowledge that enemies were near, she should give way to emotions of dread. Painfully

her thoughts vibrated between the sorrows of her aged father, and the perils which threatened her husband. The loss of hard-earned savings was also no light cause of regret. "Had Holdich gold," thought Rebekah, "he could quit at once his odious position for one in which his integrity would render him honoured instead of disliked; had he gold, he could relieve my dear father from the burden of debt and the dread of a prison. Is it wrong fervently to wish for, ardently to pray for money, not for its own sake, but as a means of getting rid of perplexing cares?"

With her book on her knee, Rebekah was thus pondering upon her troubles, when she heard a heavy