is more to me than my very life, in spite of the fact that I have done nothing to prove it to you?" "
"I have known from the beginning tha t you were different from every one else I ever met," answer ed Evelyn. "But I did not under stand what made it—and—I do not think I understand now."
"And will you let me try to tell you? May I have the joy of bringing to you that great, great love that Jesus has for you?"
"And so 'twas a love story after all," mused Evelyn, and one in which her experience stood her in no stead.
The tall elms dropped the yellow l eaves and the maples their crim son before them as they walked down the quiet streets. The interested neighbors looked out upon them and wondered, but the destiny of a soul was in the balance and the two who were most interested thought not of anything else.
"Maria, just come here, quick!" said Rebecca Bascomb , peeping through the closed blinds of the par lor where she was dusting. "For ever! If that ain't Maurice Grey! When did he come home? Ain't he grown? I never thought he'd be so grand looking. And who's that with him? His sister? No, you never saw Allison out in any such rig as that . A white dress in the morning! and a red flannel sack! I'll be beat! She looks for a ll the world like a circus rider. Did you ever? Who can she be, tricked out like that? He ain't been and got married has he? Maybe she's some actress he's brought home as his bride. I should think if that's so the fam'ly 'd never want to li ft their heads again, as down on the theatre as they've always been. Step out o' sight, Maria, she's lookin ' this way. I think I'll run over and take that recipe for fruit cake Mrs. Grey asked for last fall, and borrow her cookie cutter this afternoon. Ours is all wore out"
If our destinies could be affected by every word that is spoken about us or every glance of misunderstanding that is thrown upon us, how precarious would be our way. And how trivial will seem some of our thoughts about others when we realize at the judgment day that at the very time we were criticizing them, eternal and momentous questions were being decided.
God's ways... soon or late..,
Touch the shining hills of day.
The evil cannot brook delay,
The good can well afford to wait
Chapter 8
A Promised Prayer
M eanwhile Allison in her room wept out her bitterness and knelt for comfort. Then she bathed her eyes and arranged her hair, and b us ied herself about little duties in her room till the traces of tears should be gone, wondering presently why her mother did not call her or come in search of her.
The loving mother, supposing Allison to be with the other two young people, patiently did the work in the kitchen, rejoicing that the shadow was lifted from her dear child's heart and hoping to see her bright and sunny when she returned. It was so unusual to have Allison other than laughing and sweet that it oppressed her. She was glad to have her out in the sunshine, and sang softly about her work the verse of a hymn which had lingered with her from last Sunday's service:
Spirit of God, descending,
Fill our hearts with heavenly joy;
Love with every passion blending,
Pleasure that can never cloy;
Thus provided, pardoned, guided,
Nothing can our peace destroy.
Perchance the evil one wished to show her that this last line of her hymn was not true, for at that moment for some reason she was moved to go into the sitting room on an errand, and raising her eyes to the window she saw walking slowly up the driveway in deep and earnest converse, her son and their guest. The glimmer of the brilliant scarlet jacket flashed between the trees, and the mother looked for the duller blue of her daughter's to follow, but look as she might no Allison was in sight, and the two who walked thus together did not seem to need a third. She wondered what it could mean. Had Allison remained at the store on some petty excuse? Was the child carrying her ill feeling so far? The song died on her lips and