९

"No, not quite," said Clara, smiling; "but what were you thinking of, little one?"

"I was thinking of the Resurrection, and then of the Ascension. It was mamma who told me all about it. She told me very often, and I could understand her quite. I was thinking how she spoke of the cross being borne before the crown was won; how we, all of us, have some cross that we should try to bear patiently, and even gladly, for Jesus' sake, feeling it a great honour to be partakers of the cross which Christ Himself had to endure before the crown was His. And it was thinking of the text that says, 'Who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of God,' that made me think of making the cross and the crown together."

Clara stooped down to kiss the little girl, and I could see that tears were in her eyes, and she said softly, "Crosses are hard to bear, though, are they not, little Mirrie?"

A weary look crossed the child's face as she answered, "Yes; but Jesus will help us if we ask Him; and mamma used to say that if we took up the cross willingly when it came before us, it was not half so heavy; and that the more we fretted and murmured under the weight, the heavier it would be."

"Ah! and sometimes we make our own crosses," said Clara, thoughtfully. But this Miriam did not clearly understand; she might have understood though, with a living instance moving always by her side. And, at the same time, it smote upon my conscience that I had some share in making Miriam's crosses as well as my own! Indeed, people who are ingenious in making crosses for themselves are generally very apt and industrious in the manufacture of crosses, which all around them are compelled to bear.

Ah, Mirrie, Mirrie, I would give worlds now, if I had them, to undo the past. There are some things which God indeed has forgiven, but for which we can never forgive ourselves; some things that leave so bitter a taste behind them, that ever and anon, despite all the sweetness of the

promises and all the joy of faith and hope, we go softly, saying to ourselves, "Unclean, unclean!" Thanks be to God, who, through all, and over all, giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. In that all-atoning sacrifice, which Calvary saw long centuries ago, the believer's sins were for ever washed away, his guilt all cancelled, and his pardon sealed; but, till the flesh and spirit part, and we wake up in His likeness, must the memory of some past sins be inexpressibly mournful. They will never impugn us in the other and better life-how can they when we see our risen Saviour, our Ransom, "face to face"?-but the consequences of some past transgressions go with us to the very brink of Jordan's stream. And there, we and they must part company for evermore. Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable

gift.

CHAPTER X.

CHRISTMAS-DAY.

CHRISTMAS-EVE had been warm and moist, but after sunset the wind changed, and it began to freeze; so that Christmas morning rose clear and bright-a slight powdering of snow on the distant hills, and every hedge and tree about North Combe beautifully frosted, every branch and spray sparkling in the glad sunlight, as if it had been by a fairy's wand transmuted into silver, set with pearls and brilliants.

I rose in high good humour. Something of the true Christmas spirit had entered into my heart on the evening previous, when my dear father prayed, surrounded by his little household, that our hearts might overflow with thankfulness and love-thankfulness for the great joy that came to all mankind at the first happy Christmas-tide, and love to all the world, especially to such as were associated with us in kindred or household bonds—the spirit of Him who came to bring to earth peace and goodwill to men. And as I listened, not joining, alas! save in form, and knowing, too,

that I was the only one whose heart went not with the prayer, I felt ashamed of my own littleness; I regarded my envious thoughts as mean and contemptible; and all the beauty of love unfeigned stood disclosed before me as my dear father spoke. No, not all; only somewhat of its fair proportions rose before my worldly vision; for only the Christian can fully appreciate love; the worldling knows it not, even as he knows not faith, and peace, and other lovely graces; only dimly and very imperfectly can he who is not united to the Source of all love apprehend in all its breadth and purity that fairest grace of charity.

I rose from my knees determined to wrestle to the death with my adversary, to put away with a strong hand all evil thoughts, all unkindnesses, and petty strifes, and jealousies ; I resolved to grow up into a noble, benevolent-minded woman—a woman whom all should love and confide in, all reverence and admire. Even in the very moment of purposed reformation, the poison, you see, was thus working. If I could only be first in all places, and at all times,undeniably, prominently first,-and Mirrie second, why, then, no doubt, I could be as amiable as possible, and patronise Mirrie with a right good will.

It was in something of this spirit that I awoke on that pleasant Christmas morning, persuading myself that I really was in charity with all the world, and with Miriam Downing in particular.

At the same time, as I dressed, I wondered why Mr. King had not made his appearance and taken his own niece away to spend her Christmas with him. "A pretty Uncle Cuthbert, truly, not to trouble himself about his own flesh and blood! And he must know all about the wreck of the "Hirondelle," and the death of his sister, Mrs. Downing; for all the papers in the kingdom had told something of the melancholy story."

Still, I was, or I fancied I was, glad that Mirrie should share with me the simple Christmas festival of Kelver House; also, that she should have a Christmas present as well as myself; and in high good humour with myself I

went downstairs into the parlour, and there were the two parcels on the table, addressed to Miss Torrington and Miss Downing. Mine was a copy of Milton's "Paradise Lost," for which I had longed for some time. Miriam's was, I soon found out, a beautiful new box of water-colours. Certainly, her cadeau cost more than mine! But I stifled the rising discontent, and heroically met Mirrie as if nothing were the matter, and kissed her, and wished her "a happy Christmas!"

She kissed me back again so gratefully, that I felt like a little Judas in petticoats; and I had always prided myself not a little on my perfect sincerity; indeed, I had often apologised for sundry unkind and objectionable speeches by saying that I could never pretend anything, and that I must say what I felt, &c., &c.,—the hackneyed excuse of all people who make themselves nuisances by feeling it their duty to be distressingly candid,-people who worship at the shrine of what they call Truth, though all the while the goddess is really Temper: and she can robe herself in any dress and in any attributes wherewith her votaries would wish to clothe her. And the sacrifice laid upon her altars is generally other people's feelings, and other people's cherished prejudices, always offered at the expense of much Christian courtesy and Christian charity.

I tried to bury myself in the pages of Milton, while Miriam went into ecstacies over her paint-box with its rows of softly-tinted colours, its pretty little palette, and its pencils and camel-hair brushes. It was a pretty sight, the blue eyes swimming with happy tears, the delicate cheeks glowing like summer roses, and the golden ringlets falling like a veil round the snowy neck and shoulders. I could appreciate beauty, and I thought Mirrie looked that morning her very loveliest: while I-I had brown skin, and tangly hair, and large hands, and was all angles and irregularities; I was always being told that one shoulder was higher than the other, and admonished to keep my chin in; moreover, I grew so rapidly that I could not fail to look awkward and uncomfortable, and to feel uncomfortable too,-especially

when Susan saluted me with-"Deary me, Miss Margaret, what a gawky you do look, growing at such an awful rate, and running all the flesh off your bones, and your frock up to your knees, and all muddied and torn, and your hair all blowsed about, and your face the colour of old Lobbs's when he's bin at sea a fortnight!" Mine in those days was one of those unfortunate skins that freckled, and tanned, and blistered, and roughed universally, and showed any trace of dirt or crying marvellously;-whereas Mirrie, though a famous blusher, was always delicately fair; a little glow certainly improved her, and I really believe that if she had renounced the use of soap and clean water for a week she would scarcely have looked dirty. And I was often charged with neglect of toilet duties when they had been most carefully performed.

But I had never cared about my looks before Mirrie came. No; I had been always happy and contented, and, as I assured myself, nearly always good. Now, alas! I knew that I was very seldom good, but, on the contrary, nearly always naughty. Oh, if Mr. King would only come and take her away, as he ought to do! Then I should be as I had been in those simple, happy days gone by. Then I should be a good girl again, a happy girl, a religious girl. I saw my father looking at me very anxiously as, bending over my book, I pretended not to hear any of Mirrie's rapturous comments; utterly free from any jealous and envious tendencies of his own, he never suspected them in others till they were most visibly revealed. But now he began to be aware of the root of bitterness springing up within my heart, and, indeed, mamma had spoken with him about the spirit I was evidently cherishing.

I saw that he was grieved, but he did not say a word except to desire us to put our presents aside and take our breakfasts. But presently he began to talk about the true joy of Christmas, of its being a time of peace, and love, and grateful song, a time when feuds were healed, and injuries forgiven, and differences overlooked, a time when all the world should glorify the Prince of Peace not with