rter."

"No, I am not joking at all. I believe that rich people are quite
as unhappy as poor. Their troubles are not the same, of course,
and are generally of their own making. But troubles of the mind
are worse, surely, than troubles of the body?"

"Certainly; and it is the highest work of the ministry to deal
with spiritual trials. But you will pardon me for saying that I
cannot think this is the proper work for--for--"

"For me, you would say. We must be speaking of quite different
things, I am sure. I only mean that I can listen to the troubles
and grievances of anyone who likes to talk of them to me, and try
to comfort them a little, and to make things look brighter, and
to keep cheerful. It is not easy always even to do this."

"It is not, indeed. But would it not be easier if you could do as
I suggest? Going out of one's own class, and trying to care for
and help the poor, braces the mind more than anything else."

"You ought to know my cousin Katie," said Mary, glad to make a
diversion; "that is just what she would say. Indeed, I think you
must have seen her at Oxford; did you not?"

"I believe I had the honor of meeting her at the rooms of a
friend. I think he said she was also a cousin of his."

"Mr. Brown, you mean? Yes; did you know him?"

"Oh, yes. You will think it strange, as we are so very unlike;
but I knew him better than I knew almost any one."

"Poor Katie is very anxious about him. I hope you thought well of
him. You do not think he is likely to go very wrong?"

"No, indeed. I could wish he were sounder on Church questions,
but that may come. Do you know that he is in London?"

"I had heard so."

"He has been several times to my schools. He used to help me at
Oxford, and has a capital way with the boys."

At this moment the clock on the mantel-piece struck a quarter.
The sound touched some chord in Grey which made him grasp his hat
again, and prepare for another attempt to get away.

"I hope you will pardon--" He pulled himself up short, in the
fear lest he were going again to be false (as he deemed it) to
his calling, and stood the picture of nervous discomfort.

Mary came to his relief. "I am sorry you must go, Mr. Grey," she
said; "I should have so liked to have talked to you more about
Oxford. You will call again soon, I hope?"

At which last speech Grey, casting an imploring glance at her,
muttered something which she could not catch, and fled from the
room.

Mary stood l