e properly when he does come," said Richard, "there
is no use in being there."

"Remember, Ritchie," said Ethel, thinking him severe, "she has not been
well this long time."

Mary began to plead, but, with his own pretty persuasive manner, he
took her by the hand, and drew her into his room; and when he came down,
after an interval, it was to check Blanche, who would have gone up to
interrupt her with queries about the perpetual blue merino. He sat down
with Blanche on the staircase window-seat, and did not let her go till
he had gently talked her out of flighty spirits into the soberness of
thankfulness.

Ethel, meanwhile, had still done nothing but stray about, long for
loneliness, find herself too unsteady to finish her letters to Flora
and Tom; and, while she tried to make Gertrude think Harry a pleasant
acquisition, she hated her own wild heart, that could not rejoice, nor
give thanks, aright.

By and by Mary came down, with her bonnet on, quite quiet now. "I am
going to church with Ritchie," she said. Ethel caught at the notion, and
it spread through the house. Dr May, who just then came in with his two
sons, looked at Harry, saying, "What do you think of it? Shall we go, my
boy?" And Harry, as soon as he understood, declared that he should like
nothing better. It seemed what they all needed, even Aubrey and Gertrude
begged to come, and, when the solemn old minster was above their
heads, and the hallowed stillness around them, the tightened sense of
half-realised joy began to find relief in the chant of glory. The voices
of the sanctuary, ever uplifting notes of praise, seemed to gather
together and soften their emotions; and agitation was soothed away, and
all that was oppressive and tumultuous gave place to sweet peace and
thankfulness. Ethel dimly remembered the like sense of relief, when her
mother had hushed her wild ecstasy, while sympathising with her joy.
Richard could not trust his voice, but Mr. Wilmot offered the special
thanksgiving.

Harry was, indeed, "at home," and his tears fell fast over his book, as
he heard his father's "Amen," so fervent and so deep; and he gazed up
and around, with fond and earnest looks, as thoughts and resolutions,
formed there of old, came gathering thick upon him. And there little
Gertrude seemed first to accept him. She whispered to her papa, as they
stood up to go away, that it was very good in God Almighty to have sent
Harry home; and, as they left the cloister, s