e last to her dear father-in-law, as if the
separation from him were the hardest of all.

"Well, humming-birds must be let fly!" said he at last. "Ah! ha! Meta,
are they of no use?"

"Stay till you hear!" said Meta archly--then turning back once more.
"Oh! how I have thanked you, Ethel, for those first hints you gave me
how to make my life real. If I had only sat still and wished, instead of
trying what could be done as I was, how unhappy I should have been!"

"Come, take your sprite away, Norman, if you don't want me to keep her
for good! God bless you, my dear children! Good-bye! Who knows but when
Doctor Tom sets up in my place, Ethel and I may come out and pay you a
visit?"

It had all been over for some weeks, and the home-party had settled down
again into what was likely to be their usual course, excepting in the
holidays, to which the doctor looked forward with redoubled interest, as
Tom was fast becoming a very agreeable and sensible companion; for his
moodiness had been charmed away by Meta, and principle was teaching
him true command of temper. He seemed to take his father as a special
charge, bequeathed to him by Norman, and had already acquired that
value and importance at home which comes of the laying aside of all
self-importance.

It was a clear evening in March, full of promise of spring, and Ethel
was standing in the church porch at Cocksmoor, after making some visits
in the parish, waiting for Richard, while the bell was ringing for the
Wednesday evening service, and the pearly tints of a cloudless sunset
were fading into the western sky.

Ethel began to wonder where Norman might be looking at the sun dipping
into the western sea, and thence arose before her the visions of her
girlhood, when she had first dreamt of a church on Cocksmoor, and of
Richard ministering before a willing congregation. So strange did the
accomplishment seem, that she even touched the stone to assure herself
of the reality; and therewith came intense thanksgiving that the work
had been taken out of her hands, to be the more fully blessed and
accomplished--that is, as far as the building went; as to the people,
there was far more labour in store, and the same Hand must be looked to
for the increase.

For herself, Ethel looked back and looked on. Norman Ogilvie's marriage
seemed to her to have fixed her lot in life, and what was that lot? Home
and Cocksmoor had been her choice, and they were before her. Home! but
her eye