that she ate little and grew pale and thin. It was a strange thing to
befall my happy Marjorie. Her mother could not understand it. She tempted
her appetite in various ways, sent her to her grandfather's for a change,
and to Linnet's; but she came home as pale and dispirited as she went.

"She works too hard," thought the anxious mother; and sent for a woman to
wash and iron, that the child might be spared. Marjorie protested, saying
that she was not ill; but as the summer days came, she did not grow
stronger. Then a physician was called; who pronounced the malady nervous
exhaustion, prescribed a tonic--cheerful society, sea bathing, horseback
riding--and said he would be in again.

Marjorie smiled and knew it would do no good. If Aunt Prue were near her
she would open her heart to her; she could have told her father all
about it; but she shrank from making known to her mother that she was not
ill, but grieving because she was not a Christian. Her mother would
give her energetic advice, and bid her wrestle in prayer until peace
came. Could her mother understand, when she had lived in the very
sunshine of faith for thirty years?

She had prayed--she prayed for hours at a time; but peace came not. She
had fasted and prayed, and still peace did not come.

Her mother was as blithe and cheery as the day was long. Linnet was as
full of song as a bird, because Will was on the passage home. In Mrs.
Kemlo's face and voice and words and manner, was perfect peace. Aunt
Prue's letters were overflowing with joy in her husband and child, and
joy in God. Only Marjorie was left outside. Mrs. Rheid had become zealous
in good works. She read extracts from Hollis' letters to her, where he
wrote of his enjoyment in church work, his Bible class, the Young Men's
Christian Association, the prayer-meeting. But Marjorie had no heart for
work. She had attempted to resign as teacher in Sunday school; but the
superintendent and her class of bright little girls persuaded her to
remain. She had sighed and yielded. How could she help them to be what
she was not herself? No one understood and no one helped her. For the
first time in her life she was tempted to be cross. She was weary at
night with the effort all day to keep in good humor.

And she was a member of the church? Had she a right to go to the
communion? Was she not living a lie? She stayed at home the Sabbath of
the summer communion, and spent the morning in tears in her own chamber.