Emily hardly prepared for the summons; yet but few seconds elapsed before her light step was heard on the stairs, following her companions, who had preceded her. Every one had taken their place by the time Emily reached the room; there was some conversation going on, for on the occasion of the last evening, the customary regulations were always slightly relaxed, and the tea table of the day before the holidays usually gave token of the coming event by greater animation than marked its quiet course during the half-year. Adela was sitting at the lower end of the table, by Mrs Haye; Eleanor had said rightly, that she was a favourite with that lady.

If, however, it might be allowed that Mrs Haye had occasional partialities, she nevertheless dealt justly, and kindly, by all committed to her care. Eleanor knew this from her own experience, and no one would have borne more ample testimony to the fact than the spirited yet honourable girl, in whose character truth at least was a prevailing element. If at times nettled by what she thought a lower appreciation of her worth than she fancied was deserved, she was still ready to confess that it was because she had not approached the standard which Mrs Haye had pointed out to her. With a sincere respect for her instructress, Eleanor had her own private visions of becoming something far beyond the worthy, but too humble individual, such, as she imagined, it was wished she should

become. She looked forward to the day in which her deeds should astonish Mrs Haye, and lead her to wonder how such superior excellence had been overlooked by her watchful eyes. Perhaps the feeling had seldom been so strong as on this particular evening; and looking across at Adela's gentle face, her unuttered soliloquy ran thus: "She is just suited to help little girls in trouble, but she can never be great." Eleanor's dignity was far above frittering itself away in such a trifle as packing a school girl's trunk.

The rest of the evening, though usually a time of study, was to-night appropriated as each best pleased; and to judge by the merry voices, and the occasional choruses of laughter, there was not much of sadness or gloom in the school-room at Grantly. Many little gifts were to be presented, and both Eleanor and Adela were soon surrounded with keepsakes, which were great in value, when measured by the hearty warmth of good wishes with which they were offered.

At eight o'clock, the whole party assembled for the duty of evening prayer, which was read by Mrs Haye as usual; at the conclusion, a pause ensued, and few present were ignorant of the cause. It was always Mrs Haye's custom, on the occasion of any pupil leaving her care, to offer up a special petition on their behalf, and it therefore caused no surprise when the same voice continued as follows:

"And we particularly implore Thy Fatherly

care for those who are about to leave our quiet family, and enter on the duties of life; may they ever remember, in whatever circumstances they may be placed, that they are servants bought with a price, more precious than gold or silver. Grant that they may walk in faith, in hope, and in love, having, through Thy grace, a right judgment in all things, well regulated feelings, and the spirit of a sound mind, that they may thus, of Thy mercy, so pass through things temporal, that finally they fail not to attain things eternal; for Christ's sake."

The speaker ceased, and many voices present added "Amen" to the prayer: Eleanor's among them in her peculiar, clear, and full-toned accents. Her proud spirit was touched; she felt, true love had prayed, that she might be kept from the evil to come, and that it must be a good thing to be such a servant. Yes! she too would serve the Lord; it was her will, she had strength to do it, and the world should see what kind and measure of service would be hers! No voice rose from the kneeling figure beside her, and Omniscience alone saw the tear on the cheek, or heard the vow registered in that hour by the heart, of Adela Edgerton.

The next morning was one of stirring action, instead of impressions; there were many things to be finished, arranged, and thought of, many farewells, and some tears from Emily, when the time arrived for taking leave of Adela; but all came to a conclusion, and before another evening,

an unusual silence had settled down on the rooms lately so full of life and energy. Each had gone her way, to make one of the peculiar circle opened to receive her; some of them will meet again in this world, but the path of others is parted till the day when all shall "appear before the judgment-seat, that every one may receive the things done in the body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad."

OF

CHAPTER II.

A New Life begins.

"The mother gave in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;

She knew she should find them all again,
In the fields of light above.

"Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath,

The reaper came that day,—

'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

And took the flowers away."

-LONGFELLOW.

F all the young party who broke up for the Christmas holidays, of which we have been speaking, none went to such different homes as Eleanor Harcourt and Adela Edgerton. No two positions could be more unlike, on this their first entrance into life; and yet, perhaps, had each been allowed to choose, she would have selected something very much like the path on which she found herself placed at the outset of her new career. Eleanor would have craved a brilliant portion; Adela, what had long been hers, a quiet and a loving home.