n, now worn a little, began to sparkle with native diamonds, burning
beneath her sandals; she no longer repined at her destiny, but thanked
God for the discipline which led her soul thus early up to Him.

Already Hepsy began to understand the substantial meaning of these
pictures. It seemed that everybody was kinder to her than before.
Chester never came to the house without sitting down, if only for a
minute, by her side, and speaking some tender and brotherly word for
her tremulous heart. But others were more changed than he; for in others
there had been more need of change. Mrs. Royden seemed a different
being. She had become singularly thoughtful and careful of the poor sick
girl; and, for some reason, which nobody knew so well as the clergyman,
I suppose, she appeared uncommonly even-tempered towards the children,
reminding them, from time to time, that "poor Hepsy was sick, and they
should do all they could to comfort her, and not disturb her with their
noise."

On Saturday evening, when the rain lashed the clap-boards of the house,
and streaked the window-panes, it was pleasant for all to look back upon
the week which was past. The rolling ball of time runs smoothly in the
golden grooves of peace. There had been so few jars and discords in the
family, that even the children seemed conscious that they had entered
upon a new era of life.

Owing to the gloom of the storm, the candles were lighted all of an hour
earlier than usual, and Father Brighthopes, taking his place by Hepsy's
side, who occupied the rocking-chair, with pillows, in the sitting-room,
told his pleasant stories, with the family gathered about him, and the
little ones on his knees. The beating of the rain was music to all
hearts that night; and when the children went to bed, later than was
their custom, their happy souls sank softly into slumber, lulled by the
rain on the roof.

On the following morning, the sky was clear, and the sun shone freshly
upon the wet earth. The storm broke away a little before dawn, and when
the Sabbath threw open its gateway of gold a thousand birds came
fluttering through to announce, in songs of joy, the appearance of the
heavenly visitant. A gentle breeze shook the beaded rain from glistening
boughs, and dried the drenched grasses, while shining mists stole out of
swampy hollows, and faded in the sun.

Margaret Bowen, the wooden-legged shoemaker's daughter, who had worked
very faithfully and cheerfully since Wedn