then was chaos. She thought sometimes there must be
two of her, each intent upon pursuing a direction opposite to that of
the other. Blanche was in the state termed in the Hebrew Old Testament,
"an heart and an heart." She wished to serve God, but she also wanted
to please herself. She was under the impression--(how many share it
with her!)--that religion meant just two things--giving up everything
that one liked, and doing everything that one disliked. She did not
realise that what it really does mean is a change in the liking. But at
present she was ready to accept Christ's salvation from punishment, if
only she might dispense with the good works which God had prepared for
her to walk in.

And when the heart is thus divided between God and self, it will be
found as a rule that, in all perplexities which have to be decided, self
carries the day.

The only result of the struggle in Blanche's mind which was apparent to
those around her was that she was very cross and disagreeable. He who
is dissatisfied with himself can never be pleased with other people.

Ah, how little we all know--how little we can know, as regards one
another--of the working of that internal kingdom which is in every man's
breast! A woman's heart may be crushed to death within her, and those
who habitually talk and eat and dwell with her may only suppose that she
has a headache.

And those around Blanche entirely misunderstood her. Lady Enville
thought she was fretting over her crossed love, and lavished endless
pity and petting upon her. Clare only saw, in a vague kind of way, that
something was the matter with her sister which she could not understand,
and let her alone. Her Aunt Rachel treated her to divers acidulated
lectures upon the ingratitude of her behaviour, and the intensity with
which she ought to be ashamed of herself. None of these courses of
treatment was exactly what Blanche needed; but perhaps the nipping north
wind of Aunt Rachel was better than the dead calm of Clare, and far
superior to the soft summer breeze of Lady Enville.

It was a bright, crisp, winter day. The pond in the grounds at Enville
Court was frozen over, and Jack, declaring that no consideration should
baulk him of a slide, had gone down to it for that purpose. John
Feversham followed more deliberately; and a little later, Clare and
Blanche sauntered down in the same direction. They found the two Johns
sliding on the pond, and old Abel, the head