m. On the other side, encircled by a ring of
the baby's golden hair, was written, in fair characters, by the mother's
hand:

"To Christie. From the children."

"And now, Christie," said Mrs Lee, when the tears that would come at
the sight of the picture had been wiped away, "our good-bye to-morrow
must be a brief and quiet one. To-night I must say, `God bless you.'
Don't let the world spoil you as you grow older. You won't, I know.
You have a talisman against its power. May God make you a blessing to
many, as He has made you a blessing to me! Good-bye, my dear child. If
we never meet on earth, I humbly hope we may meet in heaven!"

It was not like a parting between mistress and maid. Mrs Lee kissed
her earnestly, while her tears fell on her face, and when Christie said
"Good-bye," she clung to her as she had not clung even to Effie. It was
like the farewell of sisters who know that they must meet death before
they look on each other's faces again.

Not one of the many grateful thoughts which filled Christie's heart had
she the power to utter. But they were not needed. After so many months
of loving service--after so many nights of anxious watching, shared so
gladly for the love she bore to her and her little ones--words could
have been of little value.

The "good-bye" in the morning was brief and quiet, as Mrs Lee had
wished--so brief that not till the carriage that took them away had
disappeared, did Christie realise that they were gone; and the walls of
the deserted nursery echoed to many a bitter sob ere she bade farewell
to the place where she had passed so many changeful hours.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

CHRISTIE'S NEW HOME.

It was a very lovely scene, and all the lovelier for the light of a fair
summer morning upon it. There was a broad, sunny lawn, with a margin of
shade, and just one mass of flitting shadows beneath the locust-tree
near the gate. Beyond, there were glimpses of winding walks and of
brilliant garden-flowers, and farther on, the waving boughs of trees,
and more flitting shadows; the cedar hedge hid the rest. The house that
stood beyond the sunny lawn was like a house in a picture--with a porch
in front, and galleries at the sides, and over the railings and round
the pillars twined flowering shrubs and a vine, with dark shining
leaves. A flight of stone steps led up to the open porch, and on the
uppermost one sat a young girl, reading. One hand rested on her book,
while the o