om busily intent on his Bible, pointing, as he did so,
with his finger to each successive word, and whispering them to himself
with an earnest air.

"Want me to read to you, Tom?" said St. Clare, seating himself
carelessly by him.

"If Mas'r pleases," said Tom, gratefully, "Mas'r makes it so much
plainer."

St. Clare took the book and glanced at the place, and began reading one
of the passages which Tom had designated by the heavy marks around it.
It ran as follows:

"When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all his holy angels
with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory: and before
him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from
another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats." St. Clare
read on in an animated voice, till he came to the last of the verses.

"Then shall the king say unto him on his left hand, Depart from me, ye
cursed, into everlasting fire: for I was an hungered, and ye gave me no
meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, an ye
took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: I was sick, and in prison,
and ye visited me not. Then shall they answer unto Him, Lord when saw
we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or
in prison, and did not minister unto thee? Then shall he say unto them,
Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these my brethren, ye
did it not to me."

St. Clare seemed struck with this last passage, for he read it
twice,--the second time slowly, and as if he were revolving the words in
his mind.

"Tom," he said, "these folks that get such hard measure seem to have
been doing just what I have,--living good, easy, respectable lives;
and not troubling themselves to inquire how many of their brethren were
hungry or athirst, or sick, or in prison."

Tom did not answer.

St. Clare rose up and walked thoughtfully up and down the verandah,
seeming to forget everything in his own thoughts; so absorbed was he,
that Tom had to remind him twice that the teabell had rung, before he
could get his attention.

St. Clare was absent and thoughtful, all tea-time. After tea, he and
Marie and Miss Ophelia took possession of the parlor almost in silence.

Marie disposed herself on a lounge, under a silken mosquito curtain,
and was soon sound asleep. Miss Ophelia silently busied herself with her
knitting. St. Clare sat down to the piano, and began playing a soft and
melancholy movement with t