ON the fourth of September, Christie woke up, saying to herself: "Itis my birthday, but no one knows it, so I shall get no presents. Ah,well, I'm too old for that now, I suppose;" but she sighed as shesaid it, for well she knew one never is too old to be remembered andbeloved.

Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Sterling entered, carrying whatlooked very like a pile of snow-flakes in her arms. Laying this uponthe bed, she kissed Christie, saying with a tone and gesture thatmade the words a benediction:

"A happy birthday, and God bless thee, my daughter!"

Before Christie could do more than hug both gift and giver, a greatbouquet came flying in at the open window, aimed with such skillthat it fell upon the bed, while David's voice called out frombelow: "A happy birthday, Christie, and many of them!"

"How sweet, how kind of you, this is! I didn't dream you knew aboutto-day, and never thought of such a beautiful surprise," criedChristie, touched and charmed by this unexpected celebration.

"Thee mentioned it once long ago, and we remembered. They are veryhumble gifts, my dear; but we could not let the day pass withoutsome token of the thanks we owe thee for these months of faithfulservice and affectionate companionship."

Christie had no answer to this little address, and was about to cryas the only adequate expression of her feelings, when a hearty"Hear! Hear!" from below made her laugh, and call out:

"You conspirators! how dare you lay plots, and then exult over mewhen I can't find words to thank you? I always did think you were aset of angels, and now I'm quite sure of it."

"Thee may be right about Davy, but I am only a prudent old woman,and have taken much pleasure in privately knitting this light wrapto wear when thee sits in the porch, for the evenings will soon growchilly. My son did not know what to get, and finally decided thatflowers would suit thee best; so he made a bunch of those theeloves, and would toss it in as if he was a boy."

"I like that way, and both my presents suit me exactly," saidChristie, wrapping the fleecy shawl about her, and admiring thenosegay in which her quick eye saw all her favorites, even to aplumy spray of the little wild asters which she loved so much.

"Now, child, I will step down, and see about breakfast. Take thytime; for this is to be a holiday, and we mean to make it a happyone if we can."

With that the old lady went away, and Christie soon followed,looking very fresh and blithe as she ran down smiling behind hergreat bouquet. David was in the porch, training up themorning-glories that bloomed late and lovely in that sheltered spot.He turned as she approached, held out his hand, and bent a little asif he was moved to add a tenderer greeting. But he did not, onlyheld the hand she gave him for a moment, as he said with thepaternal expression unusually visible:

"I wished you many happy birthdays; and, if you go on gettingyounger every year like this, you will surely have them."

It was the first compliment he had ever paid her, and she liked it,though she shook her head as if disclaiming it, and answeredbrightly:

"I used to think many years would be burdensome, and just before Icame here I felt as if I could not bear another one. But now I liketo live, and hope I shall a long, long time."

"I'm glad of that; and how do you mean to spend these long years ofyours?" asked David, brushing back the lock of hair that was alwaysfalling into his eyes, as if he wanted to see more clearly thehopeful face before him.

"In doing what your morning-glories do, - climb up as far and as fastas I can before the frost comes," answered Christie, looking at thepretty symbols she had chosen.

"You have got on a good way already then," began David, smiling ather fancy.

"Oh no, I haven't!" she said quickly. "I'm only about half way up.See here: I'll tell how it is;" and, pointing to the different partsof the flowery wall, she added in her earnest way: "I've watchedthese grow, and had many thoughts about them, as I sit sewing in theporch. These variegated ones down low are my childish fancies; mostof them gone to seed you see. These lovely blue ones of all shadesare my girlish dreams and hopes and plans. Poor things! some aredead, some torn by the wind, and only a few pale ones left quiteperfect. Here you observe they grow sombre with a tinge of purple;that means pain and gloom, and there is where I was when I camehere. Now they turn from those sad colors to crimson, rose, and softpink. That's the happiness and health I found here. You and yourdear mother planted them, and you see how strong and bright theyare."

She lifted up her hand, and gathering one of the great rosy cupsoffered it to him, as if it were brimful of the thanks she could notutter. He comprehended, took it with a quiet "Thank you," and stoodlooking at it for a moment, as if her little compliment pleased himvery much.

"And these?" he said presently, pointing to the delicate violetbells that grew next the crimson ones.

The color deepened a shade in Christie's cheek, but she went on withno other sign of shyness; for with David she always spoke outfrankly, because she could not help it.

"Those mean love to me, not passion: the deep red ones half hiddenunder the leaves mean that. My violet flowers are the best andpurest love we can know: the sort that makes life beautiful andlasts for ever. The white ones that come next are tinged with thatsoft color here and there, and they mean holiness. I know there willbe love in heaven; so, whether I ever find it here or not, I am sureI shall not miss it wholly."

Then, as if glad to leave the theme that never can be touchedwithout reverent emotion by a true woman, she added, looking up towhere a few spotless blossoms shone like silver in the light:

"Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I cannotreach them: but I can look up, and see their beauty; believe inthem, and try to follow where they lead; remember that frost comeslatest to those that bloom the highest; and keep my beautiful whiteflowers as long as I can."

"The mush is ready; come to breakfast, children," called Mrs.Sterling, as she crossed the hall with a teapot in her hand.

Christie's face fell, then she exclaimed laughing: "That's alwaysthe way; I never take a poetic flight but in comes the mush, andspoils it all."

"Not a bit; and that's where women are mistaken. Souls and bodiesshould go on together; and you will find that a hearty breakfastwon't spoil the little hymn the morning-glories sung;" and David sether a good example by eating two bowls of hasty-pudding and milk,with the lovely flower in his button-hole.

"Now, what are we to do next?" asked Christie, when the usualmorning work was finished.

"In about ten minutes thee will see, I think," answered Mrs.Sterling, glancing at the clock, and smiling at the bright expectantlook in the younger woman's eyes.

She did see; for in less than ten minutes the rumble of an omnibuswas heard, a sound of many voices, and then the whole Wilkins broodcame whooping down the lane. It was good to see Ma Wilkins jogponderously after in full state and festival array; her bonnettrembling with bows, red roses all over her gown, and a parasol ofuncommon brilliancy brandished joyfully in her hand. It was betterstill to see her hug Christie, when the latter emerged, flushed andbreathless, from the chaos of arms, legs, and chubby faces in whichshe was lost for several tumultuous moments; and it was best of allto see the good woman place her cherished "bunnit" in the middle ofthe parlor table as a choice and lovely ornament, administer thefamily pocket-handkerchief all round, and then settle down with ahearty:

"Wal, now, Mis Sterlin', you've no idee how tickled we all was whenMr. David came, and told us you was goin' to have a galy hereto-day. It was so kind of providential, for 'Lisha was invited outto a day's pleasuring so I could leave jest as wal as not. Thechildern's ben hankerin' to come the wust kind, and go plummin' asthey did last month, though I told 'em berries was gone weeks ago. Ireelly thought I'd never get 'em here whole, they trained so in thatbus. Wash would go on the step, and kep fallin' off; Gusty's hatblew out a winder; them two bad boys tumbled round loose; and dearlittle Victory set like a lady, only I found she'd got both feet inthe basket right atop of the birthday cake, I made a puppose forChristie."

"It hasn't hurt it a bit; there was a cloth over it, and I like itall the better for the marks of Totty's little feet, bless 'em!" andChristie cuddled the culprit with one hand while she revealed thedamaged delicacy with the other, wondering inwardly what evil starwas always in the ascendant when Mrs. Wilkins made cake.

"Now, my dear, you jest go and have a good frolic with themchildern, I'm a goin' to git dinner, and you a goin' to play; so wedon't want to see no more of you till the bell rings," said Mrs.Wilkins pinning up her gown, and "shooing" her brood out of theroom, which they entirely filled.

Catching up her hat Christie obeyed, feeling as much like a child asany of the excited six. The revels that followed no pen can justlyrecord, for Goths and Vandals on the rampage but feebly describesthe youthf ul Wilkinses when their spirits effervesced after amonth's bottling up in close home quarters.

David locked the greenhouse door the instant he saw them; andpervaded the premises generally like a most affable but verywatchful policeman, for the ravages those innocents committed muchafflicted him. Yet he never had the heart to say a word of reproof,when he saw their raptures over dandelions, the relish with whichthey devoured fruit, and the good it did the little souls and bodiesto enjoy unlimited liberty, green grass, and country air, even for aday.

Christie usually got them into the big meadow as soon as possible,and there let them gambol at will; while she sat on the broken boughof an apple-tree, and watched her flock like an old-fashionedshepherdess. To-day she did so; and when the children were happilysailing boats, tearing to and fro like wild colts, or discoveringthe rustic treasures Nurse Nature lays ready to gladden littlehearts and hands, Christie sat idly making a garland of greenbrakes, and ruddy sumach leaves ripened before the early frosts hadcome.

A FRIENDLY CHAT.

David saw her there, and, feeling that he might come off guard for atime, went strolling down to lean upon the wall, and chat in thefriendly fashion that had naturally grown up between thesefellow-workers. She was waiting for the new supply of ferns littleAdelaide was getting for her by the wall; and while she waited shesat resting her cheek upon her hand, and smiling to herself, as ifshe saw some pleasant picture in the green grass at her feet.

"Now I wonder what she's thinking about," said David's voice closeby, and Christie straightway answered:

"Philip Fletcher."

"And who is he?" asked David, settling his elbow in a comfortableniche between the mossy stones, so that he could "lean and loaf" athis ease.

"The brother of the lady whose children I took care of;" andChristie wished she had thought before she answered that firstquestion, for in telling her adventures at diiferent times she hadomitted all mention of this gentleman.

"Tell about him, as the children say: your experiences are alwaysinteresting, and you look as if this man was uncommonly entertainingin some way," said David, indolently inclined to be amused.

"Oh, dear no, not at all entertaining! invalids seldom are, and hewas sick and lazy, conceited and very cross sometimes." Christie'sheart rather smote her as she said this, remembering the last lookpoor Fletcher gave her.

"A nice man to be sure; but I don't see any thing to smile about,"persisted David, who liked reasons for things; a masculine traitoften very trying to feminine minds.

"I was thinking of a little quarrel we once had. He found out that Ihad been an actress; for I basely did not mention that fact when Itook the place, and so got properly punished for my deceit. Ithought he'd tell his sister of course, so I did it myself, andretired from the situation as much disgusted with Christie Devon asyou are."

"Perhaps I ought to be, but I don't find that I am. Do you know Ithink that old Fletcher was a sneak?" and David looked as if hewould rather like to mention his opinion to that gentleman.

"He probably thought he was doing his duty to the children: fewpeople would approve of an actress for a teacher you know. He hadseen me play, and remembered it all of a sudden, and told me of it:that was the way it came about," said Christie hastily, feeling thatshe must get out of the scrape as soon as possible, or she would bedriven to tell every thing in justice to Mr. Fletcher.

"I should like to see you act."

"You a Quaker, and express such a worldly and dreadful wish?" criedChristie, much amused, and very grateful that his thoughts had takena new direction.

"I'm not, and never have been. Mother married out of the sect, and,though she keeps many of her old ways, always left me free tobelieve what I chose. I wear drab because I like it, and say 'thee'to her because she likes it, and it is pleasant to have a littleword all our own. I've been to theatres, but I don't care much forthem. Perhaps I should if I'd had Fletcher's luck in seeing youplay."

"You didn't lose much: I was not a good actress; though now and thenwhen I liked my part I did pretty well they said," answeredChristie, modestly.

"Why didn't you go back after the accident?" asked David, who hadheard that part of the story.

"I felt that it was bad for me, and so retired to private life."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Sometimes when the restless fit is on me: but not so often now as Iused to do; for on the whole I'd rather be a woman than act aqueen."

"Good!" said David, and then added persuasively: "But you will playfor me some time: won't you? I've a curious desire to see you doit."

"Perhaps I'll try," replied Christie, flattered by his interest, andnot unwilling to display her little talent.

"Who are you making that for? it's very pretty," asked David, whoseemed to be in an inquiring frame of mind that day.

"Any one who wants it. I only do it for the pleasure: I always likedpretty things; but, since I have lived among flowers and naturalpeople, I seem to care more than ever for beauty of all kinds, andlove to make it if I can without stopping for any reason but thesatisfaction."

"'Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, "'Then beautyis its own excuse for being,'" observed David, who had a weaknessfor poetry, and, finding she liked his sort, quoted to Christiealmost as freely as to himself.

"Exactly, so look at that and enjoy it," and she pointed to thechild standing knee-deep in graceful ferns, looking as if she grewthere, a living buttercup, with her buff frock off at one plumpshoulder and her bright hair shining in the sun.

Before David could express his admiration, the little picture wasspoilt; for Christie called out, "Come, Vic, bring me some morepretties!" startling baby so that she lost her balance, anddisappeared with a muffled cry, leaving nothing to be seen but apair of small convulsive shoes, soles uppermost, among the brakes.David took a leap, reversed Vic, and then let her compose her littlefeelings by sticking bits of green in all the button-holes of hiscoat, as he sat on the wall while she stood beside him in the safeshelter of his arm.

"You are very like an Englishman," said Christie, after watching thepair for a few minutes.

"How do you know?" asked David, looking surprised.

"There were several in our company, and I found them very muchalike. Blunt and honest, domestic and kind; hard to get at, but trueas steel when once won; not so brilliant and original as Americans,perhaps, but more solid and steadfast. On the whole, I think themthe manliest men in the world," answered Christie, in the decidedway young people have of expressing their opinions.

"You speak as if you had known and studied a great variety of men,"said David, feeling that he need not resent the comparison she hadmade.

"I have, and it has done me good. Women who stand alone in theworld, and have their own way to make, have a better chance to knowmen truly than those who sit safe at home and only see one side ofmankind. We lose something; but I think we gain a great deal that ismore valuable than admiration, flattery, and the superficial servicemost men give to our sex. Some one says, 'Companionship teaches menand women to know, judge, and treat one another justly.' I believeit; for we who are compelled to be fellow workers with menunderstand and value them more truly than many a belle who has adozen lovers sighing at her feet. I see their faults and follies;but I also see so much to honor, love, and trust, that I feel as ifthe world was full of brothers. Yes, as a general rule, men havebeen kinder to me than women; and if I wanted a staunch friend I'dchoose a man, for they wear better than women, who ask too much, andcannot see that friendship lasts longer if a little respect andreserve go with the love and confidence."

Christie had spoken soberly, with no thought of flattery or effect;for the memory of many kindnesses bestowed on her by many men, fromrough Joe Butterfield to Mr. Power, gave warmth and emphasis to herwords.

The man sitting on the wall appreciated the compliment to his sex,and proved that he deserved his share of it by taking it exactly asshe meant it, and saying heartily:

"I like that, Christie, and wish more women thought and spoke as youdo."

"If they had had my experience they would, and not be ashamed of it.I am so old now I can say these things and not be misjudged; foreven some sensible people think this honest sort of fellowshipimpossible if not improper. I don't, and I never shall, so if I canever do any thing for you, David, forget that I am a woman and tellme as freely as if I was a younger brother."

"I wish you were!"

"So do I; you'd make a splendid elder brother."

"No, a very bad one."

There was a sudden sharpness in David's voice that jarred onChristie's ear and made her look up quickly. She only caught aglimpse of his face, and saw that it was strangely troubled, as heswung himself over the wall with little Vic on his arm and wenttoward the house, saying abruptly:

"Baby 's sleepy: she must go in."

Christie sat some time longer, wondering what she had said todisturb him, and when the bell rang went in still perplexed. ButDavid looked as usual, and the only trace of disquiet was anoccasional hasty shaking back of the troublesome lock, and a slightknitting of the brows; two tokens, as she had learned to know, ofimpatience or pain.

She was soon so absorbed in feeding the children, hungry andclamorous as young birds for their food, that she forgot every thingelse. When dinner was done and cleared away, she devoted herself toMrs. Wilkins for an hour or two, while Mrs. Sterling took her nap,the infants played riotously in the lane, and David was busy withorders.

The arrival of Mr. Power drew every one to the porch to welcome him.As he handed Christie a book, he asked with a significant smile:"Have you found him yet?"

She glanced at the title of the new gift, read "Heroes andHero-worship," and answered merrily: "No, sir, but I'm lookinghard." "Success to your search," and Mr. Power turned to greetDavid, who approached.

"Now, what shall we play?" asked Christie, as the children gatheredabout her demanding to be amused.

George Washington suggested leap-frog, and the others added equallyimpracticable requests; but Mrs. Wilkins settled the matter bysaying:

"Let's have some play-actin', Christie. That used to tickle thechildren amazin'ly, and I was never tired of hearin' them pieces,specially the solemn ones."

"Yes, yes! do the funny girl with the baby, and the old woman, andthe lady that took pison and had fits!" shouted the children,charmed with the idea.

Christie felt ready for any thing just then, and gave them TillySlowboy, Miss Miggs, and Mrs. Gummage, in her best style, while theyoung folks rolled on the grass in ecstasies, and Mrs. Wilkinslaughed till she cried.

"Now a touch of tragedy!" said Mr. Power, who sat under the elm,with David leaning on the back of his chair, both applaudingheartily.

"You insatiable people! do you expect me to give you low comedy andheavy tragedy all alone? I'm equal to melodrama I think, and I'llgive you Miss St. Clair as Juliet, if you wait a moment."

Christie stepped into the house, and soon reappeared with a whitetable-cloth draped about her, two dishevelled locks of hair on hershoulders, and the vinegar cruet in her hand, that being the firstbottle she could find. She meant to burlesque the poison scene, andbegan in the usual ranting way; but she soon forgot St. Clair inpoor Juliet, and did it as she had often longed to do it, with allthe power and passion she possessed. Very faulty was her rendering,but the earnestness she put into it made it most effective to heruncritical audience, who "brought down the house," when she fellupon the grass with her best stage drop, and lay there getting herbreath after the mouthful of vinegar she had taken in the excitementof the moment.

She was up again directly, and, inspired by this superb success, ranin and presently reappeared as Lady Macbeth with Mrs. Wilkins'sscarlet shawl for royal robes, and the leafy chaplet of the morningfor a crown. She took the stage with some difficulty, for theunevenness of the turf impaired the majesty of her tragic stride,and fixing her eyes on an invisible Thane (who cut his partshamefully, and spoke in the gruffest of gruff voices) she gave themthe dagger scene.

David as the orchestra, had been performing a drum solo on the backof a chair with two of the corn-cobs Victoria had been buildinghouses with; but, when Lady Macbeth said, "Give me the daggers,"Christie plucked the cobs suddenly from his hands, looking sofiercely scornful, and lowering upon him so wrathfully with hercorked brows that he ejaculated an involuntary, "Bless me!" as hestepped back quite daunted.

Being in the spirit of her part, Christie closed with thesleep-walking scene, using the table-cloth again, while a towelcomposed the tragic nightcap of her ladyship. This was an imitation,and having a fine model and being a good mimic, she did well; forthe children sat staring with round eyes, the gentlemen watched thewoful face and gestures intently, and Mrs. Wilkins took a longbreath at the end, exclaiming: "I never did see the beat of that forgastliness! My sister Clarissy used to walk in her sleep, but shewarn't half so kind of dreadful."

"If she had had the murder of a few friends on her conscience, Idare say she would have been," said Christie, going in to makeherself tidy.

"Well, how do you like her as an actress?" asked Mr. Power of David,who stood looking, as if he still saw and heard the haunted lady.

"Very much; but better as a woman. I'd no idea she had it in her,"answered David, in a wonder-stricken tone.

"Plenty of tragedy and comedy in all of us," began Mr. Power; butDavid said hastily:

"Yes, but few of us have passion and imagination enough to actShakspeare in that way."

"Very true: Christie herself could not give a whole character inthat style, and would not think of trying."

"I think she could; and I'd like to see her try it," said David,much impressed by the dramatic ability which Christie's usualquietude had most effectually hidden.

He was still thinking about it, when she came out again. Mr. Powerbeckoned to her; saying, as she came and stood before him, flushedand kindled with her efforts:

"Now, you must give me a bit from the 'Merchant of Venice.' Portiais a favorite character of mine, and I want to see if you can do anything with it."

"No, sir, I cannot. I used to study it, but it was too sober to suitme. I am not a judicial woman, so I gave it up," answered Christie,much flattered by his request, and amused at the respectful way inwhich David looked at her. Then, as if it just occurred to her, sheadded, "I remember one little speech that I can say to you, sir,with great truth, and I will, since you like that play."

Still standing before him, she bent her head a little, and with agraceful gesture of the hands, as if offering something, shedelivered with heartfelt emphasis the first part of Portia's prettyspeech to her fortunate suitor:

David applauded vigorously; but Mr. Power rose silently, lookingboth touched and surprised; and, drawing Christie's hand through hisarm, led her away into the garden for one of the quiet talks thatwere so much to her.

When they returned, the Wilkinses were preparing to depart; and,after repeated leave-takings, finally got under way, were packedinto the omnibus, and rumbled off with hats, hands, andhandkerchiefs waving from every window. Mr. Power soon followed, andpeace returned to the little house in the lane.

Later in the evening, when Mrs. Sterling was engaged with aneighbor, who had come to confide some affliction to the good lady,Christie went into the porch, and found David sitting on the step,enjoying the mellow moonlight and the balmy air. As he did notspeak, she sat down silently, folded her hands in her lap, and beganto enjoy the beauty of the night in her own way. Presently shebecame conscious that David's eyes had turned from the moon to herown face. He sat in the shade, she in the light, and he was lookingat her with the new expression which amused her.

"Well, what is it? You look as if you never saw me before," shesaid, smiling.

"I feel as if I never had," he answered, still regarding her as ifshe had been a picture.

"What do I look like?"

"A peaceful, pious nun, just now."

"Oh! that is owing to my pretty shawl. I put it on in honor of theday, though it is a trifle warm, I confess." And Christie strokedthe soft folds about her shoulders, and settled the corner that laylightly on her hair. "I do feel peaceful to-night, but not pious. Iam afraid I never shall do that," she added soberly.

"Why not?"

"Well, it does not seem to be my nature, and I don't know how tochange it. I want something to keep me steady, but I can't find it.So I whiffle about this way and that, and sometimes think I am amost degenerate creature."

"That is only human nature, so don't be troubled. We are allcompasses pointing due north. We get shaken often, and the needlevaries in spite of us; but the minute we are quiet, it points right,and we have only to follow it."

"The keeping quiet is just what I cannot do. Tour mother shows mehow lovely it is, and I try to imitate it; but this restless soul ofmine will ask questions and doubt and fear, and worry me in manyways. What shall I do to keep it still?" asked Christie, smiling,yet earnest.

"Let it alone: you cannot force these things, and the best way is towait till the attraction is strong enough to keep the needle steady.Some people get their ballast slowly, some don't need much, and somehave to work hard for theirs."

"Did you?" asked Christie; for David's voice fell a little, as heuttered the last words.

"I have not got much yet."

"I think you have. Why, David, you are always cheerful andcontented, good and generous. If that is not true piety, what is?"

"You are very much deceived, and I am sorry for it," said David,with the impatient gesture of the head, and a troubled look.

"Prove it!" And Christie looked at him with such sincere respect andregard, that his honest nature would not let him accept it, thoughit gratified him much.

He made no answer for a minute. Then he said slowly, as if feeling amodest man's hesitation to speak of himself, yet urged to it by someirresistible impulse:

"I will prove it if you won't mind the unavoidable egotism; for Icannot let you think me so much better than I am. Outwardly I seemto you 'cheerful, contented, generous, and good.' In reality I amsad, dissatisfied, bad, and selfish: see if I'm not. I often tire ofthis quiet life, hate my work, and long to break away, and follow myown wild and wilful impulses, no matter where they lead. Nothingkeeps me at such times but my mother and God's patience."

David began quietly; but the latter part of this confession was madewith a sudden impetuosity that startled Christie, so utterly unlikehis usual self-control was it. She could only look at him with thesurprise she felt. His face was in the shadow; but she saw that itwas flushed, his eyes excited, and in his voice she heard anundertone that made it sternly self-accusing.

"I am not a hypocrite," he went on rapidly, as if driven to speak inspite of himself. "I try to be what I seem, but it is too hardsometimes and I despair. Especially hard is it to feel that I havelearned to feign happiness so well that others are entirelydeceived. Mr. Power and mother know me as I am: other friends I havenot, unless you will let me call you one. Whether you do or notafter this, I respect you too much to let you delude yourself aboutmy virtues, so I tell you the truth and abide the consequences."

He looked up at her as he paused, with a curious mixture of prideand humility in his face, and squared his broad shoulders as if hehad thrown off a burden that had much oppressed him.

Christie offered him her hand, saying in a tone that did his heartgood: "The consequences are that I respect, admire, and trust youmore than ever, and feel proud to be your friend."

David gave the hand a strong and grateful pressure, said, "Thankyou," in a moved tone, and then leaned back into the shadow, as iftrying to recover from this unusual burst of confidence, won fromhim by the soft magic of time, place, and companionship.

Fearing he would regret the glimpse he had given her, and anxious toshow how much she liked it, Christie talked on to give him time toregain composure.

"I always thought in reading the lives of saints or good men of anytime, that their struggles were the most interesting and helpfulthings recorded. Human imperfection only seems to make real pietymore possible, and to me more beautiful; for where others haveconquered I can conquer, having suffered as they suffer, and seentheir hard-won success. That is the sort of religion I want;something to hold by, live in, and enjoy, if I can only get it."

"I know you will." He said it heartily, and seemed quite calm again;so Christie obeyed the instinct which told her that questions wouldbe good for David, and that he was in the mood for answering them."May I ask you something," she began a little timidly. "Any thing,Christie," he answered instantly. "That is a rash promise: I am awoman, and therefore curious; what shall you do if I take advantageof the privilege?" "Try and see."

"I will be discreet, and only ask one thing," she replied, charmedwith her success. "You said just now that you had learned to feignhappiness. I wish you would tell me how you do it, for it is such anexcellent imitation I shall be quite content with it till I canlearn the genuine thing."

David fingered the troublesome forelock thoughtfully for a moment,then said, with something of the former impetuosity coming back intohis voice and manner:

"I will tell you all about it; that's the best way: I know I shallsome day because I can't help it; so I may as well have done with itnow, since I have begun. It is not interesting, mind you, - only agrim little history of one man's fight with the world, the flesh,and the devil: will you have it?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Christie, so eagerly that David laughed, inspite of the bitter memories stirring at his heart.

"So like a woman, always ready to hear and forgive sinners," hesaid, then took a long breath, and added rapidly:

"I'll put it in as few words as possible and much good may it doyou. Some years ago I was desperately miserable; never mind why: Idare say I shall tell you all about it some day if I go on at thisrate. Well, being miserable, as I say, every thing looked black andbad to me: I hated all men, distrusted all women, doubted theexistence of God, and was a forlorn wretch generally. Why I did notgo to the devil I can't say: I did start once or twice; but thethought of that dear old woman in there sitting all alone andwaiting for me dragged me back, and kept me here till the firstrecklessness was over. People talk about duty being sweet; I havenot found it so, but there it was: I should have been a brute toshirk it; so I took it up, and held on desperately till it grewbearable."

"It has grovn sweet now, David, I am sure," said Christie, very low.

"No, not yet," he answered with the stern honesty that would not lethim deceive himself or others, cost what it might to be true. "Thereis a certain solid satisfaction in it that I did not use to find. Itis not a mere dogged persistence now, as it once was, and that is astep towards loving it perhaps."

He spoke half to himself, and sat leaning his head on both handspropped on his knees, looking down as if the weight of the oldtrouble bent his shoulders again.

"What more, David?" said Christie.

"Only this. When I found I had got to live, and live manfully, Isaid to myself, 'I must have help or I cannot do it.' To no livingsoul could I tell my grief, not even to my mother, for she had herown to bear: no human being could help me, yet I must have help orgive up shamefully. Then I did what others do when all else fails tosustain them; I turned to God: not humbly, not devoutly ortrustfully, but doubtfully, bitterly, and rebelliously; for I saidin my despairing heart, 'If there is a God, let Him help me, and Iwill believe.' He did help me, and I kept my word."

"Oh, David, how?" whispered Christie after a moment's silence, forthe last words were solemn in their earnestness.

"The help did not come at once. No miracle answered me, and Ithought my cry had not been heard. But it had, and slowly somethinglike submission came to me. It was not cheerful nor pious: it wasonly a dumb, sad sort of patience without hope or faith. It wasbetter than desperation; so I accepted it, and bore the inevitableas well as I could. Presently, courage seemed to spring up again: Iwas ashamed to be beaten in the first battle, and some sort of blindinstinct made me long to break away from the past and begin again.My father was dead; mother left all to me, and followed where I led.I sold the old place, bought this, and, shutting out the world asmuch as I could, I fell to work as if my life depended on it. Thatwas five or six years ago: and for a long time I delved away withoutinterest or pleasure, merely as a safety-valve for my energies, anda means of living; for I gave up all my earlier hopes and plans whenthe trouble came.

"I did not love my work; but it was good for me, and helped cure mysick soul. I never guessed why I felt better, but dug on withindifference first, then felt pride in my garden, then interest inthe plants I tended, and by and by I saw what they had done for me,and loved them like true friends."

A broad woodbine leaf had been fluttering against David's head, ashe leaned on the slender pillar of the porch where it grew. Now, asif involuntarily, he laid his cheek against it with a caressinggesture, and sat looking over the garden lying dewy and still in themoonlight, with the grateful look of a man who has learned thehealing miracles of Nature and how near she is to God.

"Mr. Power helped you: didn't he?" said Christie, longing to hearmore.

"So much! I never can tell you what he was to me, nor how I thankhim. To him, and to my work I owe the little I have won in the wayof strength and comfort after years of effort. I see now thecompensation that comes out of trouble, the lovely possibilitiesthat exist for all of us, and the infinite patience of God, which isto me one of the greatest of His divine attributes. I have only gotso far, but things grow easier as one goes on; and if I keep tuggingI may yet be the cheerful, contented man I seem. That is all,Christie, and a longer story than I meant to tell."

"Not long enough: some time you will tell me more perhaps, since youhave once begun. It seems quite natural now, and I am so pleased andhonored by your confidence. But I cannot help wondering what madeyou do it all at once," said Christie presently, after they hadlistened to a whippoorwill, and watched the flight of a downy owl.

"I do not think I quite know myself, unless it was because I havebeen on my good behavior since you came, and, being a humbug, as Itell you, was forced to unmask in spite of myself. There are limitsto human endurance, and the proudest man longs to unpack his woesbefore a sympathizing friend now and then. I have been longing to dothis for some time; but I never like to disturb mother's peace, ortake Mr. Power from those who need him more. So to-day, when you sosweetly offered to help me if you could, it quite went to my heart,and seemed so friendly and comfortable, I could not resist trying ittonight, when you began about my imaginary virtues. That is thetruth, I believe: now, what shall we do about it?"

"Just go on, and do it again whenever you feel like it. I know whatloneliness is, and how telling worries often cures them. I meantevery word I said this morning, and will prove it by doing any thingin the world I can for you. Believe this, and let me be yourfriend."

They had risen, as a stir within told them the guest was going; andas Christie spoke she was looking up with the moonlight full uponher face.

If there had been any hidden purpose in her mind, any falsesentiment, or trace of coquetry in her manner, it would have spoiledthat hearty little speech of hers.

But in her heart was nothing but a sincere desire to prove gratitudeand offer sympathy; in her manner the gentle frankness of a womanspeaking to a brother; and in her face the earnestness of one whofelt the value of friendship, and did not ask or give it lightly.

"I will," was David's emphatic answer, and then, as if to seal thebargain, he stooped down, and gravely kissed her on the forehead.

Christie was a little startled, but neither offended nor confused;for there was no love in that quiet kiss, - only respect, affection,and much gratitude; an involuntary demonstration from the lonely manto the true-hearted woman who had dared to come and comfort him.

Out trotted neighbor Miller, and that was the end of confidences inthe porch; but David played melodiously on his flute that night, andChristie fell asleep saying happily to herself:

"Now we are all right, friends for ever, and every thing will gobeautifully."