little Ashtaroth, my heart was almost broken. I received wounds then the scars of which I must carry through life. Perhaps the downfall of my house hastened, by vibration, the downfall of yours; nevertheless, we had both built on the sand. Do you not see it, Mabel ?"

No answer was deigned him but the haughty averting of her face from his. Patiently he continued:

"To all appearances I erred through my affections; you through your intellect. It was well that the trial was afforded, that our failure became apparent ere it was too late. You will agree with me that our resolves and aspirations were a mere echo of the thoughts of that sweet woman, Florence Dalgleish, in her lesson on character-building. She told us that the hearts which would enshrine the Holy Spirit ought to be cleansed and beautified as was the Temple which contained the Ark of the Covenant. She was clear enough too in teaching us that the foundation of the living Temple must be faith toward God; that the corner-stone must be Christ Himself; but we, foolish young architects, overlooked all that in our dream of terraces and turrets, of Gothic arches and composite pillars. What wonder that we failed! God be thanked that the error is not irretrievable! Shall we not begin anew, in a different spirit; acknowledging our own weakness and calling upon the Divine help? Shall we not say

M

'Because I now can nothing do,
Jesus do all the work alone ;

And bring my soul triumphant through,

To wave its palm before thy Throne.”

This time he would be answered, and because Mabel felt that he was shaking her soul to its very foundations, that he was attaining the old supremacy over her which had been the cause of all her misery, she made a terrible effort to resist him; such an effort as only a strong nature like hers was capable of making.

"Mr. Maurice Wetherill," she said, in clear, though tremulous tones, "I cannot tell you how I admire the apostolic fervour which brings you here after me; nor how over-awed I am by the apostolie authority with which your appeals have been made. I only regret that they should have been wasted over one. And here let me tell you that I am not open to your influence; not at all. If I knew myself to be wrong, you are the last person in the world to whom I would own it. If I had to return to my former belief and service, you are the last person in the world in whose hand I would put my own for the guiding.”

This assertion, made with all the majesty of tone and manner of which Mabel Gordon was capable, took Maurice so completely by surprise he knew not how to answer her. He was so wounded by it, that he felt

tears gathering in his eyes such as pain had never wrung from them.

Not in anger, but in sorrow, he rose to leave her. For some moments he paused irresolute; then he came to her and took her hand.

up

"Do you hate me, Mabel?"

"No; you

have never given me any reason to."

"Tell me that again."

"An' it pleaseth you

"Are you still sufficiently my friend to make me one promise?"

"It depends on the promise."

"Promise that you will study the life of Christ; that you will read a chapter of the Gospels every day, praying God for light; and that you will read if possible with an unbiassed mind."

She consented readily.

"I am embarking for the Holy Land in a few weeks; but I can always keep you aware of my address. Will you write to me?"

"Farewell, then, Mabel." And, for all the repulse she had given him, he embraced her, as he had once been privileged to do in right of cousinship.

"Farewell!" she said. "But you have not told me; are you giving any lectures now?"

"The day after to-morrow I shall give my 'Blaise Pascal' in Exeter Hall."

"I wish I could hear it. I also wish I could have seen you looking better, Cousin Maurice."

"I am glad to hear even that," he said sorrowfully, "though from you it seems so very, very little.”

And the expression on his face, as he left her, was a new ghost to haunt the chambers of Mabel's sorrowhaunted heart. Oh, what would she not have given to have been able to keep the surging tide of her emotions back; if she had not spoken to him words which she felt must remain uncancelled, unatoned for.

CHAPTER XIX.

"It was my guide, my light, my all;
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of Peace.

Now, safely moor'd, my perils o'er,

I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever and for evermore

The Star! the Star of Bethlehem!"

HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

MAURICE set out on his journey to the Holy Land. He did not forget Mabel; thoughts of her blended with every new object he saw, for he had never lost the habit, acquired when they came to be separated, of mentally talking to her. Even when he was in love he had, in his own imagination, spoken to her of the new experience, and received her sympathy. Even now he could not help talking to or thinking to her, though she had given him so plainly to understand that the fair flower of her friendship was no longer his, and that he was little more to her than an acquaintance. had little encouragement to write to her, but there was this left to him, he could pray for her. Aud he did

He