It was as the ingathering of the first sheaf of the Aftermath, which was garnered for them in no scant measure; and in both hearts there was the same acknowledgment of Him from whom all good things come. Of Him who wills that seed time and harvest, summer and winter shall not fail, who gives to all things a season, and blesses His faithful children with a double blessing, even though for a time He may seem to hide His face, and they are troubled. His promise is sure; the harvest shall not fail, and whatever betides, an Aftermath shall be gathered in, full and rich with the blessings of a higher and purer life than that which earth can know.

"And I thought to myself, how nice it is
For me to live in a world like this,

Where things can happen, and clocks can strike,
And none of the people are made alike.

"Where Love wants this, and Pain wants that,
And all our hearts want tit-for-tat,

In the jumble we make with our heads and hands,
In a world which nobody understands,

But with work and hope, and the right to call
Upon Him who sees it, and knows us all."

MATTHEW BROWNE.

"HERE you are, sir," exclaimed a cheery voice, as heavy steps were heard crunching the wet bracken and brambles. "Here you are, sir. Mr. Stamp has brought the springcovered cart from the Hall, and will be proud to take the lady home. Is she better-lor! I hear she was seen by one of the coastguard men from the cliff. He was sent to Bournemouth on a very particular message, and when he saw the lady and the child were safe he pushed on, thinking they would come up the path, and so get on. But he says he never saw such pluck in all his life. He thought they would both have been sucked in by the waves, which were running like mountains. He says he never saw such a thing before. But how are we to move

her, sir ?"

"Thanks," said Rachel. "I must try to walk now; please help me to put my feet down."

She made the effort, but the pain mastered her, brave as she was, and she said,—

"I cannot."

Then the man and Mr. Buchanan raised her as before, and at last succeeded in reaching the cart, which was waiting in the road which led through the woods.

Mr. Stamp was full of concern and interest, and had taken pains to make a comfortable place where Rachel could lie at the bottom of the cart with straw and rugs.

"Now, sir, you sit upon the board," he said, " and the lady's head can rest against you. Dear me ! what a night," he exclaimed, as the wind howled more and more fiercely, and hurried through the trees with relentless force.

"Come now, miss," said the man who had stood them in such good stead, "you must try to keep up-and lor! if you could have seen Mrs. Latham crying for joy over Teddie just now, you would be glad. She had been like a distracted thing when she came home from Christchurch and found Teddie was lost. She'll be grateful to you, as in duty bound, to the latest day of her life, and well she may."

These homely words did Rachel good, and helped her to struggle against the faintness which the pain caused her.

When they were in the cart, their kind, active friend jumped up behind and maintained his position on the board, where boxes and parcels were piled, and beguiling the way by singing, heedless of rain and wind, and calling out now and then

"Gently, Mr. Stamp ; I am afraid the jolting hurts the poor lady."

How it did hurt her no words could tell. Mr. Buchanan

only knew by the quivering of the whole frame and the quick coming breath. He inquired once if the pain were very bad, and she answered,

"Please don't ask me."

But it was joy in the midst of it all to feel that she drew close to him, and held his hand as if she would never let it go.

How often is the woof of life thus marked by the strongest contrasts. The golden thread, which is to irradiate the whole, woven in with the darker one, as if to bring it out more brightly.

And the blessed sense of rest and protection came to Rachel's heart in that slow progress over the uneven roads, filling her with thankfulness too deep for any sign or expression.

That evening had been one of suspense, trouble, and anxiety to poor Winifred; and Linda had worked herself into a state of excitement which ended in tears.

Her mother's sharp reproof did not tend to allay it, and Winifred was too really unhappy to comfort her.

"Nonsense-as if a woman of thirty would come to any harm. Surely she is old enough to take care of herself," Mrs. Buchanan said. The idea of your uncle going out on a night like this to look for her before he had half swallowed his tea. I dare say he would have preferred dinner; but really late dinners make a great hole in weekly bills, as I told Miss Fremantle. Ten o'clock, is it? Delia will be here directly. There is a sound of

wheels."

Winifred went to the top of the stairs and met Mr. Buchanan coming up.

"What is it? Have you found her-pray tell me ?" "Yes, she is here, thank God, safe. Will you get her room ready. She has hurt her foot, I fear, very much.

We must carry her in.

Don't be frightened," he said, “She is so anxious you

putting his arm round her.

Ishould not be alarmed. We may be very thankful nothing worse has happened."

Winifred looked up at him, his eyes glistening.

"My

"Yes, indeed, what could any of us do without her?" "What could I do without her?" Mr. Buchanan's heart echoed as he turned back to the door. darling-mine?" he repeated, with a a sort of proud triumph in possession which he could not repress even then.

Rachel's injury, and her long exposure to cold and rain, kept her in bed some days. She did not, therefore, see Mr. Buchanan again before his return to Halchester. After the first day or two, when the pain and fever subsided, Rachel found it a luxury to lie still, looking out upon the strip of sea seen from her window, and listening to the music of the wind amongst the firs. The doctor who had been sent for said that her whole frame needed rest, and hinted that perhaps the severe sprain to her leg might bring good results in rendering entire rest a necessity. Flowers and books came to her daily, and on the morning of Mr. Buchanan's departure with Mrs. Alick Buchanan and Delia, he gave Winifred a note for Rachel.

"Perhaps you guess what is in it ?" he said. "I shall tell Aunt Dorothy, and my little Linda before I leave her; but, from the outer world, it may as well be kept a secret for the present."

Winifred's face lighted with eager satisfaction.

"Oh! I am so glad, so thankful," she said. "I always thought--"

"What?" he asked.

"That perhaps you did really love her," she said, with characteristic simplicity.