n, to secure a place in the counting-room of a friend; and took
another, still younger, into his own office. So that Lilias had the
satisfaction of knowing they were all provided for; the church, over
which her father had presided, having, meanwhile, presented the widow of
their esteemed pastor with the house in which they lived, and a generous
sum of money."

"And is that all, Mrs. Mann?" asked Clemence, in disappointed tones, as
the good woman paused in her narration; "have you nothing further to
tell us about this wonderful Lilias May?"

"Oh," she laughed, patting the girl's cheek caressingly, "I see what you
are after, and I will tell you the rest. The best part of the story is
yet to come. Lilias May's beauty of person and character made such an
impression upon the family who employed her, that they prevailed upon
her to remain with them always, for she married the gentleman's oldest
son. It seemed too, that her Aunt Leonora only admired her the more for
her courageous spirit, and when she died soon after, left Lilias all of
her money, to do just as she pleased with."

"But here is the tea steeped until it is nearly spoiled, and I am afraid
Mrs. Graystone is tired of waiting," said Mrs. Mann, hurrying out of the
room, "on hospitable thought intent."

Soon the little, plain, unpretending room took on that air of home
comfort that is seldom seen in statelier dwellings.

After all, happiness is comparative, and the poor man in his cottage,
with good health and a clear conscience, has as good a chance for
arriving at the goal which restless mortals ever strive to attain, as
the rich man who cannot be one moment free from the cares that wealth is
always sure to bring with it.

CHAPTER III.

Clemence Graystone's first attempt at obtaining employment had not been
sufficiently encouraging to cause her to entertain any very sanguine
hopes in regard to a renewal of her exertions. But that stern necessity
"which knows no law," compelled her to make another trial after she had
somewhat recovered from the effects of her first disappointment.

Clemence had already began to learn some of the bitter lessons of
poverty. She no longer viewed life through the rose-colored medium that
she had been wont to do in her former, care-free days. There were
thought lines gathering on the broad, white brow, and the dark eyes,
that had once the joyous look of a happy child, told of one who had
already tasted the bitterness of l