said: "It must be Isa Marlay!"
And he lay down again, saying: "Well, it can never be quite dark in a
man's life when he has one friend." And then, as the light grew more and
more faint, he said: "Why did not I see it before? Good orthodox Isa
wants to preach to me. She means to say that I should receive light
through the cross."

And he lay awake far into the night, trying to divine how the flower-pots
and pictures and all the rest could have been sent all the way from
Metropolisville. It was not till long afterward that he discovered the
alliance between Whisky Jim and Isabel, and how Jim had gotten a friend
on the Stillwater route to help him get them through. But Charlton wrote
Isa, and told her how he had detected her, and thanked her cordially,
asking her why she concealed her hand. She replied kindly, but with
little allusion to the gifts, and they came no more. When Isa had been
discovered she could not bring herself to continue the presents. Save
that now and then there came something from his mother, in which Isa's
taste and skill were evident, he received nothing more from her, except
an occasional friendly letter. He appreciated her delicacy too late, and
regretted that he had written about the cross at all.

One Sunday, Mr. Lurton, going his round, found Charlton reading the New
Testament.

"Mr. Lurton, what a sublime prayer the Pater-noster is!" exclaimed
Charlton.

"Yes;" said Lurton, "it expresses so fully the only two feelings that can
bring us to God--a sense of guilt and a sense of dependence."

"What I admired in the prayer was not that, but the unselfishness that
puts God and the world first, and asks bread, forgiveness, and guidance
last. It seems to me, Mr. Lurton, that all men are not brought to God by
the same feelings. Don't you think that a man may be drawn toward God by
self-sacrifice--that a brave, heroic act, in its very nature, brings us
nearer to God? It seems to me that whatever the rule may be, there are
exceptions; that God draws some men to Himself by a sense of sympathy;
that He makes a sudden draft on their moral nature--not more than they
can bear, but all they can bear--and that in doing right under
difficulties the soul finds itself directed toward God--opened on the
side on which God sits."

Mr. Lurton shook his head, and protested, in his gentle and earnest way,
against this doctrine of man's ability to do anything good before
conversion.

"But, Mr. Lurton," urged Alber