ow, Mr. Linden."

"Did you ever consider those words which close the account of the
Creation--'God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very
good'."

"That is what I was going to say!" she said modestly but with
brightening colour,--"that perhaps he made all those things, those you
spoke of, for _himself?_"

"For himself--to satisfy the perfectness of his own character. And
think how different the divine and the human standards of perfection!
Not the outward fair colour and proportion merely, not the perfect
fitness and adaptation, not the most utilitarian employment of every
grain of dust, so that nothing is lost,--not even the grandest scale of
working, is enough; but the dust on the moth's wing must be plumage,
and the white chalk cliffs must be made of minute shells, each one of
which shines like spun silver or is figured like cut glass. Not more
steadily do astronomers discover new worlds, than the microscope
reveals some new perfection of detail and finish in our own."

Faith listened, during this speech, like one literally seeing 'into
space,' as far as an embodied spirit can, for the first time. Then with
a smile, a little sorrowful, she brought up with,

"I don't know anything of all that, Mr. Linden! Do you mean that chalk
is really made of little shells?"

"Yes, really--and blue mould is like a miniature forest. You will know
about it"--he said with a smile. "But do you see how this touches the
standard of moral perfection?--how it explains that other word, 'Be ye
also perfect'."

Faith had not seen before, but she did now; for in her face the answer
flashed most eloquently. She was silent.

"That is the sort of perfection we are promised," Mr. Linden went on
presently,--"that is the sort of perfection we shall see. Now, both
glass and eye are imperfect,--specked, and flawed, and short-sighted;
and can but faintly discern 'the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous
works of him that is perfect in knowledge.' But then!--

'When sin no more obstructs our sight,
When sorrow pains our hearts no more,
How shall we view the Prince of Light,
And all his works of grace explore!
What heights and depths of love divine
Will then through endless ages shine!'"

The words moved her probably, for she sat with her face turned a little
away so that its play or its gravity were scarce so well revealed. Not
very long however. The silence lasted time enough to let her thoughts
co