ge which
it was possible for her to acquire, grudging every minute as lost and
wasted time that was not given to study. To shine had become with her
the one absorbing object; to shine, not, alas! for Christ, but for self,
for the world, that she might gain the prize of human applause. So she
was using the gifts with which God had endowed her, not to his glory, by
laying them at the foot of the cross, and employing them as talents with
which she was to occupy till the Master came, but as means whereby she
might win for herself distinction, and outstrip others in the race for
earthly fame. But such a strain on mind and body could not last; the
overtaxed faculties would assert their claim for the much-needed rest;
and so, in the early spring-time, Clara Maltby was suddenly stricken
down and lay for days in a state of half-unconsciousness.

At last she rallied, in a measure; and when she was sufficiently
recovered to bear conversation, she earnestly begged that she might be
allowed to see Thomas Bradly, and have an opportunity of saying a few
words to him in the presence of her parents, previously to her being
taken from home by her mother to the seaside, to which she had been
ordered by her medical man, as soon as she could bear the removal. So
one evening, after his work, Bradly, with a sorrowful heart, made his
way up to the vicarage, and was introduced by Mr Maltby into the inner
room, where his daughter had gathered together her own special library.

The patient lay on a low couch near the fire, which burned cheerfully,
and lighted up, though not with gladness, the care-smitten features of
the vicar's daughter. Close to her was a little table, on which lay a
small Bible, a pile of photographs, and a few printed papers. Her
writing materials occupied part of a larger table, and were flanked on
either side by heaps of volumes--scientific, historical, and poetical;
while beyond the books was a small but exquisitely-modelled group of wax
flowers, most life-like in appearance, under a glass shade. Over the
fire-place was a large water-colour drawing of Crossbourne Church, with
miniatures of her father and mother, one on each side of it. On the
mantelpiece was an ivory statuette, beautifully carved, the gift of a
travelled friend; and other articles of taste and refinement were
scattered up and down the room. But now the gentle mistress of this
quiet retreat lay languid and weary, incapable of enjoying these
articl