to open fountains. It is to the
weary and heavy-laden that Christ has promised rest. I am sure that
those who feel their need of God's help need not fear that they will be
refused anything--I mean, anything that is good for them."

"There is a difference, I suppose," she added, after a pause. "We may
ask for many a temporal blessing that might be our ruin if God were to
grant it to us; and in love He withholds such, often. But when we ask
for spiritual blessing, for the grace of strength to do or of patience
to bear His will, if we ask for guidance, for wisdom to direct us, we
need not fear that we shall be denied. And, having these, other things
don't matter so much, to God's people."

"`To God's people,'" repeated Christie to herself again. "Well, I am
not one of them. It's nothing that can do me any good."

She did not answer her sister, but rose up slowly, saying it was time to
go. So she climbed over the low stone wall, and walked on in silence.
Effie followed quietly. Not a word was spoken till they reached the
bend of the brook over which hung the birch-tree. Past this, her
favourite resting-place, Christie rarely went without lingering. She
would not have paused to-night, however, had not Effie, who had fallen a
little behind by this time, called her.

"Oh, Christie! look at the clouds! Did you ever see anything so
beautiful? How beautiful!" she repeated, as she came and stood beside
her. "It was a long time before I could become used to the sun's
sinking down in that low, far-away place. I missed the hills that used
to hide him from us at home. How well I remember the sunsets then, and
the long, quiet gloamings!"

"Home" was over the sea, and "then" was the time when a mother's voice
and smile mingled with all other pleasant things; and no wonder that
Effie sighed, as she stood watching the changing hues near the low
horizon. The "home" and "then" were the last drops added to Christie's
cup of sad memories; and the overflow could no longer be stayed. She
kept her face turned away from her sister, but could not hide the
struggle within, and at Effie's very first word her sobs broke forth.

"What is the matter, Christie? There must be something you have not
told me about. You are weary: that is it. Sit down here again, and
rest. We need not hurry home, after all."

Christie sank down, struggling with her tears.

"It's nothing, Effie," she said, at last. "I'm sure I didna mean to vex