a half sigh,
and concluded she was a little weary, as the people poured into the
Bible-class. Mrs. Perth came and sat beside Beth. Is it not strange how,
in this world of formality and convention, we meet someone now and
again, and there is but a look, a word, a, smile, and we feel that we
have known them so long? There is something familiar in their face, and
we seem to have walked beside them all along the way. It was just so
with Beth and Mrs. Perth. Sweet May Perth! She soon learned to call her
that.

Beth was never to forget that Sunday afternoon. Mr. Perth taught the
Bible-class. He was an enthusiastic man, reminding her somewhat of
Arthur. They were studying, that day, the approach of the Israelites to
Canaan, and as Mr. Perth grew more earnest, Beth's face wore a brighter
look of interest. Soon he laid aside historical retrospect, and talked
of the heavenly Canaan toward which Christ's people were journeying, a
bright land shining in the sunlight of God's love, joy in abundance, joy
overflowing! He looked so happy as he talked of that Divine love,
changeless throughout all time, throughout all eternity--a love that
never forsakes, that lulls the weary like a cradle-song, a love that
satisfies even the secret longings! Oh, that woman heart of hers, how it
yearned, yea, hungered for a love like that love, that could tread the
earth in humiliation, bearing the cross of others' guilt, dying there at
Calvary! She knew that old, old story well, but she drank it in like a
little wondering child to-day. What were those things He promised to
those who would tread the shining pathway? Life, peace, rest, hope, joy
of earth, joy of heaven! Oh, how she longed to go with them! The tears
were standing in her eyes, and her heart was beating faster. But this
one thing she must do, or turn aside from the promised land of God's
people. Down at the feet of Jesus she must lay her all. And what of that
novel she had written? Could she carry that over into this heavenly
Canaan? "The fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is." Hers
would perish, she knew that well. Highly moral, highly refined and
scholarly, but what of its doubts, its shadows, its sorrows without
hope, its supernatural gloom? Beth was a master-artist in the field of
gloom. She knew how to make her readers shudder, but would that story of
hers bring more joy into the world? Would it sweeten life and warm human
hearts? Ah, no! And yet, could she destroy it now