MR. POWER.

NEXT day Christie braved the lion in his den, otherwise the flintyFlint, in her second-class boarding-house, and found that alarm andremorse had produced a softening effect upon her. She wasunfeignedly glad to see her lost lodger safe, and finding that thenew friends were likely to put her in the way of paying her debts,this much harassed matron permitted her to pack up her possessions,leaving one trunk as a sort of hostage. Then, with promises toredeem it as soon as possible, Christie said good-bye to the littleroom where she had hoped and suffered, lived and labored so long,and went joyfully back to the humble home she had found with thegood laundress.

All the following week Christie "chored round," as Mrs. Wilkinscalled the miscellaneous light work she let her do. Much washing,combing, and clean pinaforing of children fell to her share, and sheenjoyed it amazingly; then, when the elder ones were packed off toschool she lent a hand to any of the numberless tasks housewivesfind to do from morning till night. In the afternoon, when otherwork was done, and little Vic asleep or happy with her playthings,Christie clapped laces, sprinkled muslins, and picked out edgings atthe great table where Mrs. Wilkins stood ironing, fluting, andcrimping till the kitchen bristled all over with immaculate frillsand flounces.

It was pretty delicate work, and Christie liked it, for Mrs. Wilkinswas an adept at her trade and took as much pride and pleasure in itas any French blanchis-seuse tripping through the streets of Pariswith a tree full of coquettish caps, capes, and petticoats bornebefore her by a half invisible boy.

Being women, of course they talked as industriously as they worked;fingers flew and tongues clacked with equal profit and pleasure,and, by Saturday, Christie had made up her mind that Mrs. Wilkinswas the most sensible woman she ever knew. Her grammar was anoutrage upon the memory of Lindley Murray, but the goodness of herheart would have done honor to any saint in the calendar. She wasvery plain, and her manners were by no means elegant, but goodtemper made that homely face most lovable, and natural refinement ofsoul made mere external polish of small account. Her shrewd ideasand odd sayings amused Christie very much, while her good sense andbright way of looking at things did the younger woman a world ofgood.

Mr. Wilkins devoted himself to the making of shoes and theconsumption of food, with the silent regularity of a placid animal.His one dissipation was tobacco, and in a fragrant cloud of smoke helived and moved and had his being so entirely that he might havebeen described as a pipe with a man somewhere behind it. Christieonce laughingly spoke of this habit and declared she would try itherself if she thought it would make her as quiet andundemonstrative as Mr. Wilkins, who, to tell the truth, made no moreimpression on her than a fly.

"I don't approve on't, but he might do wuss. We all have to have ourcomfort somehow, so I let Lisha smoke as much as he likes, and helets me gab, so it's about fair, I reckon," answered Mrs. Wilkins,from the suds.

She laughed as she spoke, but something in her face made Christiesuspect that at some period of his life Lisha had done "wuss;" andsubsequent observations confirmed this suspicion and another onealso, - that his good wife had saved him, and was gently easing himback to self-control and self-respect. But, as old Fuller quaintlysays, "She so gently folded up his faults in silence that fewguessed them," and loyally paid him that respect which she desiredothers to bestow. It was always "Lisha and me," "I'll ask myhusband" or "Lisha 'll know; he don't say much, but he's a dreadfulsmart man," and she kept up the fiction so dear to her wifely soulby endowing him with her own virtues, and giving him the credit ofher own intelligence.

Christie loved her all the better for this devotion, and for hersake treated Mr. Wilkins as if he possessed the strength of Samsonand the wisdom of Solomon. He received her respect as if it was hisdue, and now and then graciously accorded her a few words beyond theusual scanty allowance of morning and evening greetings. At his shopall day, she only saw him at meals and sometimes of an evening, forMrs. Wilkins tried to keep him at home safe from temptation, andChristie helped her by reading, talking, and frolicking with thechildren, so that he might find home attractive. He loved his babiesand would even relinquish his precious pipe for a time to ride thelittle chaps on his foot, or amuse Vic with shadow rabbit's on thewall.

At such times the entire content in Mrs. Wilkins's face made tobaccofumes endurable, and the burden of a dull man's presence lessoppressive to Christie, who loved to pay her debts in somethingbesides money.

As they sat together finishing off some delicate laces that Saturdayafternoon, Mrs. Wilkins said, "Ef it's fair to-morrow I want you togo to my meetin' and hear my minister. It'll do you good."

"Who is he?"

"Mr. Power."

Christie looked rather startled, for she had heard of Thomas Poweras a rampant radical and infidel of the deepest dye, and been warnednever to visit that den of iniquity called his free church.

"Why, Mrs. Wilkins, you don't mean it!" she said, leaving her laceto dry at the most critical stage.

"Yee, I do!" answered Mrs. Wilkins, setting down her flat-iron withemphasis, and evidently preparing to fight valiantly for herminister, as most women will.

"I beg your pardon; I was a little surprised, for I'd heard allsorts of things about him," Christie hastened to say.

"Did you ever hear him, or read any of his writins?" demanded Mrs.Wilkins, with a calmer air.

"Never."

"Then don't judge. You go hear and see that blessed man, and ef youdon't say he's the shadder of a great rock in a desert land, I'llgive up," cried the good woman, waxing poetical in her warmth.

"I will to please you, if nothing else. I did go once just because Iwas told not to; but he did not preach that day and every thing wasso peculiar, I didn't know whether to like it or be shocked."

"It is kind of sing'lar at fust, I'm free to confess, and not aschurchy as some folks like. But there ain't no place but that bigenough to hold the crowds that want to go, for the more he's abusedthe more folks flock to see him. They git their money's wuth I dobelieve, for though there ain't no pulpits and pews, there's a sightof brotherly love round in them seats, and pious practice, as wellas powerful preaching, in that shabby desk. He don't need nocommandments painted up behind him to read on Sunday, for he keeps'em in his heart and life all the week as honest as man can."

There Mrs. Wilkins paused, flushed and breathless with her defence,and Christie said, candidly: "I did like the freedom and good-willthere, for people sat where they liked, and no one frowned over shutpew-doors, at me a stranger. An old black woman sat next me, andsaid 'Amen' when she liked what she heard, and a very shabby youngman was on the other, listening as if his soul was as hungry as hisbody. People read books, laughed and cried, clapped when pleased,and hissed when angry; that I did not like."

"No more does Mr. Power; he don't mind the cryin' and the smilin' asit's nat'ral, but noise and disrespect of no kind ain't pleasin' tohim. His own folks behave becomin', but strangers go and act as theylike, thinkin' that there ain't no bounds to the word free. Then weare picked at for their doin's, and Mr. Power has to carry otherfolkses' sins on his shoulders. But, dear suz, it ain't much matterafter all, ef the souls is well-meanin'. Children always make anoise a strivin' after what they want most, and I shouldn't wonderef the Lord forgive all our short-comin's of that sort, sense we arehankerin' and reachin' for the truth."

"I wish I had heard Mr. Power that day, for I was striving afterpeace with all my heart, and he might have given it to me," saidChristie, interested and impressed with what she heard.

"Wal, no, dear, I guess not. Peace ain't give to no one all of asuddin, it gen'lly comes through much tribulation, and the sort thatcomes hardest is best wuth havin'. Mr. Power would a' ploughed andharrered you, so to speak, and sowed good seed liberal; then ef youwarn't barren ground things would have throve, and the Lord give youa harvest accordin' to your labor. Who did you hear?" asked Mrs.Wilkins, pausing to starch and clap vigorously.

"A very young man who seemed to be airing his ideas and beliefs inthe frankest manner. He belabored everybody and every thing, upsetchurch and state, called names, arranged heaven and earth to suithimself, and evidently meant every word he said. Much of it wouldhave been ridiculous if the boy had not been so thoroughly inearnest; sincerity always commands respect, and though peoplesmiled, they liked his courage, and seemed to think he would make aman when his spiritual wild oats were sown."

"I ain't a doubt on't. We often have such, and they ain't all emptytalk, nuther; some of 'em are surprisingly bright, and all mean sowell I don't never reluct to hear 'em. They must blow off theirsteam somewheres, else they'd bust with the big idees a swellin' in'em; Mr. Power knows it and gives 'em the chance they can't findnowheres else. 'Pears to me," added Mrs. Wilkins, ironing rapidly asshe spoke, "that folks is very like clothes, and a sight has to bedone to keep 'em clean and whole. All on us has to lend a hand inthis dreadful mixed-up wash, and each do our part, same as you andme is now. There's scrubbin' and bilin', wrenchin' and bluein',dryin' and foldin', ironin' and polishin', before any of us is fitfor wear a Sunday mornin'."

"What part does Mr. Power do?" asked Christie, much amused at thispeculiarly appropriate simile.

"The scrubbin' and the bilin'; that's always the hardest and thehottest part. He starts the dirt and gits the stains out, and leaves'em ready for other folks to finish off. It ain't such pleasant workas hangin' out, or such pretty work as doin' up, but some one's gotto do it, and them that's strongest does it best, though they don'tgit half so much credit as them as polishes and crimps. That's showywork, but it wouldn't be no use ef the things warn't well washedfust," and Mrs. Wilkins thoughtfully surveyed the snowy muslin cap,with its border fluted like the petals of a prim white daisy, thathung on her hand.

"I'd like to be a washerwoman of that sort; but as I'm not one ofthe strong, I'll be a laundress, and try to make purity asattractive as you do," said Christie, soberly.

"Ah, my dear, it's warm and wearin' work I do assure you, and hardto give satisfaction, try as you may. Crowns of glory ain't wore inthis world, but it's my 'pinion that them that does the hard jobshere will stand a good chance of havin' extra bright ones when theygit through."

"I know you will," said Christie, warmly.

"Land alive, child! I warn't thinking of Cynthy Wilkins, but Mr.Power. I'll be satisfied ef I can set low down somewheres and seehim git the meddle. He won't in this world, but I know there'srewards savin' up for him byme-by."

"I'll go to-morrow if it pours!" said Christie, with decision.

"Do, and I'll lend you my bunnit," cried Mrs. Wilkins, passing, withcomical rapidity, from crowns of glory to her own cherishedhead-gear.

"Thank you, but I can't wear blue, I look as yellow as a dandelionin it. Mrs. Flint let me have my best things though I offered toleave them, so I shall be respectable and by-and-by blossom out."

On the morrow Christie went early, got a good seat, and for half anhour watched the gathering of the motley congregation that filledthe great hall. Some came in timidly, as if doubtful of theirwelcome; some noisily, as if, as Mrs. Wilkins said, they had notlearned the wide difference between liberty and license; many as ifeager and curious; and a large number with the look of childrengathering round a family table ready to be fed, and sure thatwholesome food would be bountifully provided for them.

Christie was struck by the large proportion of young people in theplace, of all classes, both sexes, and strongly contrasting faces.Delicate girls looking with the sweet wistfulness of maidenly heartsfor something strong to lean upon and love; sad-eyed women turningto heaven for the consolations or the satisfactions earth could notgive them; anxious mothers perplexed with many cares, trying to findlight and strength; young men with ardent faces, restless, aspiring,and impetuous, longing to do and dare; tired-looking students, withperplexed wrinkles on their foreheads, evidently come to see if thisman had discovered the great secrets they were delving after; andsoul-sick people trying this new, and perhaps dangerous medicine,when others failed to cure. Many earnest, thoughtful men and womenwere there, some on the anxious seat, and some already at peace,having found the clew that leads safely through the labyrinth oflife. Here and there a white head, a placid old face, or one ofthose fine countenances that tell, unconsciously, the beautifulstory of a victorious soul.

Some read, some talked, some had flowers in their hands, and all satat ease, rich and poor, black and white, young and old, waiting forthe coming of the man who had power to attract and hold so many ofhis kind. Christie was so intent on watching those about her thatshe did not see him enter, and only knew it by the silence whichbegan just in front of her, and seemed to flow backward like a wave,leaving a sea of expectant faces turning to one point. That pointwas a gray head, just visible above the little desk which stood inthe middle of a great platform. A vase of lovely flowers was on thelittle shelf at one side, a great Bible reposed on the other, and amanuscript lay on the red slope between.

In a moment Christie forgot every thing else, and waited with acurious anxiety to see what manner of man this was. Presently he gotup with an open book in his hand, saying, in a strong, cheerfulvoice: "Let us sing," and having read a hymn as if he had composedit, he sat down again.

Then everybody did sing; not harmoniously, but heartily, led by anorgan, which the voices followed at their own sweet will. At first,Christie wanted to smile, for some shouted and some hummed, some satsilent, and others sung sweetly; but before the hymn ended she likedit, and thought that the natural praise of each individual soul wasperhaps more grateful to the ear of God than masses by greatmasters, or psalms warbled tunefully by hired opera singers.

Then Mr. Power rose again, and laying his hands together, with apeculiarly soft and reverent gesture, lifted up his face and prayed.Christie had never heard a prayer like that before; so devout, socomprehensive, and so brief. A quiet talk with God, asking nothingbut more love and duty toward Him and our fellow-men; thanking Himfor many mercies, and confiding all things trustfully to the "dearfather and mother of souls."

The sermon which followed was as peculiar as the prayer, and aseffective. "One of Power's judgment-day sermons," as she heard oneman say to another, when it was over. Christie certainly felt atfirst as if kingdoms and thrones were going down, and each man beingsent to his own place. A powerful and popular wrong was arrested,tried, and sentenced then and there, with a courage and fidelitythat made plain words eloquent, and stern justice beautiful. He didnot take David of old for his text, but the strong, sinful, splendidDavids of our day, who had not fulfilled the promise of their youth,and whose seeming success was a delusion and a snare to themselvesand others, sure to be followed by sorrowful abandonment, defeat,and shame. The ashes of the ancient hypocrites and Pharisees wasleft in peace, but those now living were heartily denounced; modernmoney-changers scourged out of the temple, and the everlasting truthset up therein.

As he spoke, not loudly nor vehemently, but with the indescribableeffect of inward force and true inspiration, a curious stir wentthrough the crowd at times, as a great wind sweeps over a cornfield, lifting the broad leaves to the light and testing thestrength of root and stem. People looked at one another with aroused expression; eyes kindled, heads nodded involuntary approval,and an emphatic, "that's so!" dropped from the lips of men who sawtheir own vague instincts and silent opinions strongly confirmed andnobly uttered. Consciences seemed to have been pricked to duty, eyescleared to see that their golden idols had feet of clay, andwavering wills strengthened by the salutary courage and integrity ofone indomitable man. Another hymn, and a benediction that seemedlike a fit grace after meat, and then the crowd poured out; notyawning, thinking of best clothes, or longing for dinner, but wakedup, full of talk, and eager to do something to redeem the countryand the world.

Christie went rapidly home because she could not help it, and burstin upon Mrs. Wilkins with a face full of enthusiasm, exclaiming,while she cast off her bonnet as if her head had outgrown it sinceshe left:

"It was splendid! I never heard such a sermon before, and I'll nevergo to church anywhere else."

"I knew it! ain't it fillin'? don't it give you a kind of spiritnlh'ist, and make things wuth more somehow?" cried Mrs. Wilkins,gesticulating with the pepper-pot in a way which did not improve thesteak she was cooking, and caused great anguish to the noses of heroffspring, who were watching the operation.

Quite deaf to the chorus of sneezes which accompanied her words,Christie answered, brushing back her hair, as if to get a betterout-look at creation generally:

"Oh, yes, indeed! At first it was rather terrible, and yet so true Iwouldn't change a word of it. But I don't wonder he ismisunderstood, belied, and abused. He tells the truth so plainly,and lets in the light so clearly, that hypocrites and sinners mustfear and hate him. I think he was a little hard and unsparing,sometimes, though I don't know enough to judge the men and measureshe condemned. I admire him very much, but I should be afraid of himif I ever saw him nearer."

"No, you wouldn't; not a grain. You hear him preach agin and you'llfind him as gentle as a lamb. Strong folks is apt to be ruther ha'shat times; they can't help it no more than this stove can helpscorchin' the vittles when it gits red hot. Dinner's ready, so setright up and tell me all about it," said Mrs. Wilkins, slapping thesteak on to the platter, and beginning to deal out fried potatoesall round with absent-minded lavishness.

Christie talked, and the good soul enjoyed that far more than herdinner, for she meant to ask Mr. Power to help her find the rightsort of home for the stranger whose unfitness for her present placewas every day made more apparent to the mind of her hostess.

"What took you there first?" asked Christie, still wondering at Mrs.Wilkins's choice of a minister.

"The Lord, my dear," answered the good woman, in a tone of calmconviction. "I'd heard of him, and I always have a leanin' towardsthem that's reviled; so one Sabbath I felt to go, and did. 'That'sthe gospel for me,' says I, 'my old church ain't big enough now, andI ain't goin' to set and nod there any longer,' and I didn't."

"Hadn't you any doubts about it, any fears of going wrong or beingsorry afterwards?" asked Christie, who believed, as many do, thatreligion could not be attained without much tribulation of somekind.

"In some things folks is led; I be frequent, and when them leadin'scorne I don't ask no questions but jest foller, and it always turnsout right."

"I wish I could be led."

"You be, my dear, every day of your life only you don't see it. Whenyou are doubtful, set still till the call conies, then git up andwalk whichever way it says, and you won't fall. You've had bread andwater long enough, now you want meat and wine a spell; take it, andwhen it's time for milk and honey some one will fetch 'em ef youkeep your table ready. The Lord feeds us right; it's we that quarrelwith our vittles."

"I will," said Christie, and began at once to prepare her littleboard for the solid food of which she had had a taste that day.

That afternoon Mrs. Wilkins took her turn at church-going, saw Mr.Power, told Christie's story in her best style, and ended by saying:

"She's true grit, I do assure you, sir. Willin' to work, but she'sseen the hard side of things and got kind of discouraged. Soul andbody both wants tinkerin' up, and I don't know anybody who can dothe job better 'n you can."

"Very well, I'll come and see her," answered Mr. Power, and Mrs.Wilkins went home well satisfied.

He kept his word, and about the middle of the week came walking inupon them as they were at work.

"Don't let the irons cool," he said, and sitting down in the kitchenbegan to talk as comfortably as if in the best parlor; more so,perhaps, for best parlors are apt to have a depressing effect uponthe spirits, while the mere sight of labor is exhilarating toenergetic minds.

He greeted Christie kindly, and then addressed himself to Mrs.Wilkins on various charitable matters, for he was a minister atlarge, and she one of his almoners. Christie could really see himnow, for when he preached she forgot the man in the sermon, andthought of him only as a visible conscience.

A sturdy man of fifty, with a keen, brave face, penetrating eyes,and mouth a little grim; but a voice so resonant and sweet itreminded one of silver trumpets, and stirred and won the hearer withirresistible power. Rough gray hair, and all the features ratherrugged, as if the Great Sculptor had blocked out a grand statue, andleft the man's own soul to finish it.

Had Christie known that he came to see her she would have been illat ease; but Mrs. Wilkins had kept her own counsel, so when Mr.Power turned to Christie, saying:

"My friend here tells me you want something to do. Would you like tohelp a Quaker lady with her housework, just out of town?"

She answered readily: "Yes, sir, any thing that is honest."

"Not as a servant, exactly, but companion and helper. Mrs. Sterlingis a dear old lady, and the place a pleasant little nest. It is goodto be there, and I think you'll say so if you go."

"It sounds pleasant. When shall I go?"

Mr. Power smiled at her alacrity, but the longing look in her eyesexplained it, for he saw at a glance that her place was not here.

"I will write at once and let you know how matters are settled. Thenyou shall try it, and if it is not what you want, we will find yousomething else. There's plenty to do, and nothing pleasanter than toput the right pair of hands to the right task. Good-by; come and seeme if the spirit moves, and don't let go of Mrs. Wilkins till youlay hold of a better friend, if you can find one."

Then he shook hands cordially, and went walking out again into thewild March weather as if he liked it.

"Were you afraid of him?" asked Mrs. Wilkins.

"I forgot all about it: he looked so kind and friendly. But Ishouldn't like to have those piercing eyes of his fixed on me longif I had any secret on my conscience," answered Christie.

"You ain't nothin' to fear. He liked your way of speakin' fust rate,I see that, and you'll be all right now he's took hold."

"Do you know Mrs. Sterling?"

"Only by sight, but she's a sweet appearin' woman, and I wouldn'task nothin' better 'n to see more of her," said Mrs. Wilkins,warmly, fearing Christie's heart might misgive her.

But it did not, and when a note came saying Mrs. Sterling would beready for her the next week, she seemed quite content with everything, for though the wages were not high she felt that country airand quiet were worth more to her just then than money, and thatWilkinses were better taken homceopathically.

The spirit did move her to go and see Mr. Power, but she could notmake up her mind to pass that invisible barrier which stands betweenso many who could give one another genuine help if they only daredto ask it. But when Sunday came she went to church, eager for more,and thankful that she knew where to go for it.

This was a very different sermon from the other, and Christie feltas if he preached it for her alone. "Keep innocency and take heed tothe thing that is right, for this will bring a man peace at thelast," might have been the text, and Mr. Power treated it as if hehad known all the trials and temptations that made it hard to liveup to.

Justice and righteous wrath possessed him before, now mercy andtenderest sympathy for those who faltered in well-doing, and thestern judge seemed changed to a pitiful father. But better than thepity was the wise counsel, the cheering words, and the devoutsurrender of the soul to its best instincts; its close communionwith its Maker, unchilled by fear, untrammelled by the narrowness ofsect or superstition, but full and free and natural as the breath oflife.

As she listened Christie felt as if she was climbing up from asolitary valley, through mist and shadow toward a mountain top,where, though the way might be rough and strong winds blow, shewould get a wider outlook over the broad earth, and be nearer theserene blue sky. For the first time in her life religion seemed avisible and vital thing; a power that she could grasp and feel, takeinto her life and make her daily bread. Not a vague, vast ideafloating before her, now beautiful, now terrible, always undefinedand far away.

She was strangely and powerfully moved that day, for the ploughinghad begun; and when the rest stood up for the last hymn, Christiecould only bow her head and let the uncontrollable tears flow downlike summer rain, while her heart sang with new aspiration:

Sitting with her hand before her eyes, she never stirred till thesound of many feet told her that service was done. Then she wipedher eyes, dropped her veil, and was about to rise when she saw alittle bunch of flowers between the leaves of the hymn book lyingopen in her lap. Only a knot of violets set in their own broadleaves, but blue as friendly eyes looking into hers, and sweet askind words whispered in her ear. She looked about her hoping todetect and thank the giver; but all faces were turned the other way,and all feet departing rapidly.

Christie followed with a very grateful thought in her heart for thislittle kindness from some unknown friend; and, anxious to recoverherself entirely before she faced Mrs. Wilkins, she took a turn inthe park.

The snow was gone, high winds had dried the walk, and a clear skyoverhead made one forget sodden turf and chilly air. March was goingout like a lamb, and Christie enjoyed an occasional vernal whifffrom far-off fields and wakening woods, as she walked down the broadmall watching the buds on the boughs, and listening to the twitterof the sparrows, evidently discussing the passers-by as they sat atthe doors of their little mansions.

Presently she turned to walk back again and saw Mr. Power comingtoward her. She was glad, for all her fear had vanished now, and shewanted to thank him for the sermon that had moved her so deeply. Heshook hands in his cordial way, and, turning, walked with her,beginning at once to talk of her affairs as if interested in them.

"Are you ready for the new experiment?" he asked.

"Quite ready, sir; very glad to go, and very much obliged to you foryour kindness in providing for me."

"That is what we were put into the world for, to help one another.You can pass on the kindness by serving my good friends who, inreturn, will do their best for you."

"That's so pleasant! I always knew there were plenty of good,friendly people in the world, only I did not seem to find themoften, or be able to keep them long when I did. Is Mr. Sterling anagreeable old man?"

"Very agreeable, but not old. David is about thirty-one or two, Ithink. He is the son of my friend, the husband died some years ago.I thought I mentioned it."

"You said in your note that Mr. Sterling was a florist, and mightlike me to help in the green-house, if I was willing. It must belovely work, and I should like it very much."

"Yes, David devotes himself to his flowers, and leads a very quietlife. You may think him rather grave and blunt at first, but you'llsoon find him out and get on comfortably, for he is a trulyexcellent fellow, and my right-hand man in good works."

A curious little change had passed over Christie's face during theselast questions and answers, unconscious, but quite observable tokeen eyes like Mr. Power's. Surprise and interest appeared first,then a shadow of reserve as if the young woman dropped a thin veilbetween herself and the young man, and at the last words a halfsmile and a slight raising of the brows seemed to express the queermixture of pity and indifference with which we are all apt to regard"excellent fellows" and "amiable girls." Mr. Power understood thelook, and went on more confidentially than he had at first intended,for he did not want Christie to go off with a prejudice in her mindwhich might do both David and herself injustice.

"People sometimes misjudge him, for he is rather old-fashioned inmanner and plain in speech, and may seem unsocial, because he doesnot seek society. But those who know the cause of this forgive anylittle short-comings for the sake of the genuine goodness of theman. David had a great trouble some years ago and suffered much. Heis learning to bear it bravely, and is the better for it, though thememory of it is still bitter, and the cross hard to bear even withpride to help him hide it, and principle to keep him from despair."

Mr. Power glanced at Christie as he paused, and was satisfied withthe effect of his words, for interest, pity, and respect shone inher face, and proved that he had touched the right string. Sheseemed to feel that this little confidence was given for a purpose,and showed that she accepted it as a sort of gage for her ownfidelity to her new employers.

"Thank you, sir, I shall remember," she said, with her frank eyeslifted gravely to his own. "I like to work for people whom I canrespect," she added, "and will bear with any peculiarities of Mr.Sterling's without a thought of complaint. When a man has sufferedthrough one woman, all women should be kind and patient with him,and try to atone for the wrong which lessens his respect and faithin them."

"There you are right; and in this case all women should be kind, forDavid pities and protects womankind as the only retaliation for thelife-long grief one woman brought upon him. That's not a commonrevenge, is it?"

"It's beautiful!" cried Christie, and instantly David was a hero.

"At one time it was an even chance whether that trouble sent Davidto 'the devil,' as he expressed it, or made a man of him. Thatlittle saint of a mother kept him safe till the first desperationwas over, and now he lives for her, as he ought. Not so romantic anending as a pistol or Byronic scorn for the world in general andwomen in particular, but dutiful and brave, since it often takesmore courage to live than to die."

"Yes, sir," said Christie, heartily, though her eyes fell,remembering how she had failed with far less cause for despair thanDavid.

They were at the gate now, and Mr. Power left her, saying, with avigorous hand-shake:

"Best wishes for a happy summer. I shall come sometimes to see howyou prosper; and remember, if you tire of it and want to change, letme know, for I take great satisfaction in putting the right peoplein the right places. Good-by, and God be with you."