y right in
the path of perfect bliss which she longed to tread with her Little Boy
Blue.

Who should roll it away?

Could she feel free to take happiness with the Boy, if she had
disappointed and crushed a deeply sensitive nature which trusted her?

She dressed, and went down to the breakfast-room, her soul filled, in
spite of perplexities, with a radiance of glad thanksgiving.

Martha and Jenkins came in to prayers. Martha had now taken to curling
all her wisps. She appeared with many frizzled ringlets, kept in place
by invisible pins.

Martha always came in to prayers, as if she were marching at the head
of a long row of men and maids. Jenkins followed meekly, placing his
chair at what would have been the tail of Martha's imaginary retinue.
According to the triumphant dignity of Martha's entry, Jenkins placed
his chair near or far away. Martha was in great form to-day. Jenkins
sat almost at the door. If the door-bell rang during prayers, the
first ring was tacitly ignored; but if it rang again, Martha signed to
Jenkins, who tiptoed reverently out, and answered it. No matter how
early in the morning's devotions the interruption occurred, Jenkins
never considered it etiquette to return. Miss Charteris used to dread
a duet alone with Martha. She always became too intensely conscious of
herself and of Martha, to be uplifted as usual by the inspired words of
Bible and Prayer-book. The presence of Jenkins at once constituted a
congregation.

On this particular morning, no interruptions occurred.

The portion for the day chanced to be the scene at the empty tomb, in
the early dawn of that first Easter Day, as given by Saint Mark.

The quiet voice vibrated with unusual emotion as Miss Charteris read:

"_And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they came
unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun. And they said among
themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the
sepulchre? And when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled
away: for it was very great._"

Christobel Charteris paused. She seemed to see the shore at
Dovercourt, and the brave little figure struggling to carry the heavy
stone; and, later on when the cannon-ball lay safely in the castle
court-yard, Little Boy Blue standing erect, with lifted cap, and
shining eyes, a picture of faith triumphant.

"_I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not._"

How far were the happenings of this strange