aceful gates to all expand,
By grace and strength divinely shed,
Each mortal thither may be led;
Who, kindled by Christ's love, will dare
All earthly sufferings now to bear.

By many a salutary stroke,
By many a weary blow, that broke,
Or polished, with a workman's skill,
The stones that form that glorious pile;
They all are fitly framed to lie
In their appointed place on high.
Ancient Hymn for the Dedication of a Church.

The thirtieth of November dawned with the grave brightness of an autumn
day, as the sun slowly mounted from the golden east, drinking up the
mists that rose tardily, leaving the grass thickly bedewed.

The bells of Stoneborough Minster were ringing gladsome peals, and the
sunshine had newly touched the lime trees, whose last bright yellow
leaves were gently floating down, as the carriage, from the Grange, drew
up at Dr. May's door.

Norman opened it, to claim Meta at once for the walk; Mrs. Arnott and
Mary had gone on to assist Richard in his final arrangements, but even
before Cocksmoor, with Ethel, was now the care of Margaret; and she had
waited with her father to keep all bustle from her room, and to commit
her into the charge of Flora and of nurse. Ethel seemed quite unwilling
to go. There was that strange oppressed feeling on her as if the
attainment of her wishes were joy too great to be real--as if she would
fain hold off from it at the climax, and linger with the sister who
had shared all with her, and to whom that church was even more than
to herself. She came back, and back again, with fresh injunctions,
sometimes forgetting the very purpose of her return, as if it had been
only an excuse for looking at Margaret's countenance, and drinking in
her sympathy from her face; but she was to go in George's carriage,
and he was not a man to allow of loitering. He became so impatient of
Ethel's delays, that she perceived that he could bear them no longer,
gave her final kiss, and whispered, "In spirit with us!" then ran down
and was seized on by George, who had already packed in the children and
Miss Bracy, and was whirled away.

"Flora dear," said Margaret, "do you dislike having the window opened?"

Flora threw it up, protesting, in reply to her sister's scruples, that
she liked the air. "You always spoiled me," said Margaret fondly. "Come
and lie down by me. It is very nice to have you here," she added, as
Flora complied;