That night saw him working, with all his wonted zeal, at a paper he was writing on some question which affected the welfare of the poor in Halchester, and then the conversation he had had with Chrystie shaped itself into these verses, which seemed to express all he would say to him if that gentle, loving girl were given to him at last.

And Chrystie, when he read them years later, remembered the earnestness with which his uncle had spoken when he bid him learn the

"ARS AMANDI.

"Is thy heart firm? if not, forbear
A woman's heart by vows to move;
Nor with a mind still changeful dare
To undertake a changeless love.

"Where are the proofs of steadfastness
Shown in thy former life? and where
The pledge that thou canst shield and bless
A life entrusted to thy care?

"Have all thy days till now maintained
Nature's prime bond-the love of home?
And from her calm affections gained
The grace unknown to those who roam.

"Have all true spirits found thine own
Still chivalrous in word and deed?
Look well to this! for Love is known
Still more of chivalry to need.

"What? dost thou quail and shun reply,
Knowing thy life no theme for praise?
Yet turn not back-though Love be high,
He stoops the truthful heart to raise.

"Fear not for him! Even now, in thine He longs his dwelling-place to make, And by soft touches, all divine,

The bonds of former wrong to break.

"He fain would guide thy truant will, In paths of pleasantness and joy; And in his choicest service still,

Thy very heart of hearts employ.

"Then lift thine eyes-with better hope
Make answer to a question new :
Has thy soul gained a nobler scope
For what it now will strive to do?

"Canst thou with steadfast faith profess

That Love, who knows no grovelling ends—

Love, who is all unselfishness,

Now to himself thy liking bends?

"Golden, because thy love will grow,
Such as the noblest heart may prize;
And strong to meet with answering glow
The love which speaks from faithful eyes.

"Sweet love! sweet life! which thus abides,
Still, chastened by its own deep awe,
And, 'mid all changes, changeless, guides
Its course by Love's unswerving law.”

CHAPTER XV.

STORM AND CALM.

"I love her with a love as still

As a broad river's peaceful might,
Which by high tower and lonely mill
Goes wandering at its own will,
And yet doth ever flow aright.

"And on its full, deep breast, serene,
Like quiet isles my duties lie ;

It flows around them and between,

And makes them fresh, and fair, and green

Sweet homes wherein to live and die."

J. R. LOWELL.

LIKE a flower that lifts its head to greet the sun after a storm has passed over it, Winifred slowly but surely came back to life and some measure of strength. Her early training and her own gentle patience tended also towards her recovery, and Dr. Howson spoke hopefully of the future; but he decreed that a winter in the cold north must not be thought of: whatever increase of health was gained in the summer, Winifred must pass the autumn and winter in a warm and sheltered place. The air of Bournemouth, scented with the breath of the fir trees, he particularly recommended; and before the middle of June had come, he pronounced Winifred well enough to bear the journey there.

Chrystie was inclined at times to chafe at the separa

tion, and to think that the sooner he had her for his own the more likely she would be to get quite well. But wise heads decreed otherwise; and Mr. Buchanan, at Mrs. Pennington's request, took a small house at Bournemouth : where Aunt Dorothy and Linda could join company, and the two households unite.

"It will be the best place, Uncle Maurice," Linda said, "for neither Winifred nor I can do without Rachel, and it will be so nice to be all together, won't it?"

"I am glad you are pleased, Linda," Mr. Buchanan said tenderly; "you have been so patient and good and unselfish all these long weeks in London."

"Have I?" the child said. “I am so pleased you think so. But, Uncle Maurice, you will come to Bournemouth sometimes, just as you came to London, won't you? You think of every one but yourself."

"Chrystie and I must both work hard at home, Linda, after all this coming and going; but I shall come when I can, and when I am wanted."

"You are always wanted, Uncle Maurice. I am never half so happy as when I am with you-really," she said, as he shook his head. "Cousin Chrystie is now always so full of fun, and sings and whistles, and does seem so glad, but

"He is rather too noisy for you, I suppose, Linda. Poor boy! he deserves to be happy, and we must expect a little demonstration."

"And doesn't Winifred look happy, Uncle Maurice? Her face shines as if it had a light behind it. I wish my dear Rachel for she is mine-could be as happy. Do you know, Uncle Maurice, when she came here on Sunday evening, she was reading to me about Lazarus and Mary, and it was so beautiful to hear her. SuddenlyLinda stopped. "I don't know whether she would like