she had watched the quiet
routine of patient effort that went to make up the sum of Mr. Alwynn's
life. He was a shy man. He seldom spoke of religion out of the pulpit;
but all through these long months he preached it without words to Ruth,
as she had never heard it preached before, by

"The best portion of a good man's life--
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love."

It was the first time that she had come into close contact with a life
spent for others, and its beauty appealed to her with a new force, and
gradually but surely changed the current of her thoughts, until, as "we
needs must love the highest when we see it," she unconsciously fell in
love with self-sacrifice.

The opinions of most young persons, however loudly and injudiciously
proclaimed, rarely do the possessors much harm, because they are not,
as a rule, acted upon; but with some few people a change of views means
a change of life. Ruth was on the edge of a greater change than she
knew.

At first she had often regretted the chapter of her life that had been
closed by Lady Deyncourt's death. Now, she felt she could not go back to
it, and find it all-sufficient as of old. It would need an added
element, without which she began to see that any sort or condition of
life is but a stony, dusty concern after all--an element which made even
Mr. Alwynn's colorless existence a contented and happy one.

Ruth had been telling him one day, as they were walking together, of her
sister's plans for the winter, and that she was sorry to think her time
at Slumberleigh was drawing to a close.

"I am afraid," he said, "in spite of all you say, my dear, it has been
very dull for you here. No little gayeties or enjoyments such as it is
right young people should have. I wish we had had a picnic, or a
garden-party, or something. Mabel Thursby cannot be happy without these
things, and it is natural at your age that you should wish for them.
Your aunt and I lead very quiet lives. It suits us, but it is different
for young people."

"Does it suit you?" asked Ruth, with sudden earnestness. "Do you really
like it, or do you sometimes get tired of it?"

Mr. Alwynn looked a little alarmed and disconcerted. He never cared to
talk about himself.

"I used to get tired," he said at last, with reluctance, "when I was
younger. There were times when I foolishly expected more from life
than--than, in fact, I quite got, my dear; and the res