as a protector, but did
not look upon him as a friend in whom he could implicitly confide. The
flower without sunshine will lose its colour and its perfume. Six weeks
after Arthur Eden, a merry, bright-eyed child, alighted from his
mother's carriage at the old gate of Saint Winifred's school, no casual
stranger would have recognised him again in the pale and moping little
fellow who seemed to be afraid of every one whom he met.

Oh, if we knew how rare, how sweet, how deep human love can be, how
easily, yet how seldom it is gained, how inexpressible the treasure is
when once it _has_ been gained, we should not trample on human hearts as
lightly as most men do! Any one who in that hard time had spoken a few
kindly words to Eden--any one who would have taken him gently for a
short while by the hand, and helped him over the stony places that hurt
his unaccustomed feet--any one who would have suffered, or who would
have invited him, to pour his sorrows into their ears and assist him to
sustain them--might have won, even at that slight cost, the deepest and
most passionate love of that trembling young heart. He might have saved
him from hours of numbing pain, and won the rich reward of a gratitude
well-deserved and generously repaid. There were many boys at Saint
Winifred's gentle-hearted, right-minded, of kindly and manly impulses;
but all of them, except Walter, lost this golden opportunity of
conferring pure happiness by disinterested good deeds. They did not buy
up the occasion, which goes away and burns the priceless books she
offers, if they are not purchased unquestioningly and at once.

And Walter regretfully felt that he was very very nearly too late; so
nearly, that perhaps in a week or two more Eden might have lost
hopelessly, and for ever, all trace of self-respect--might have been
benumbed into mental imbecility by the torpedo-like influence of
helpless grief. Walter felt as if he had been selfishly looking on
while a fellow-creature was fast sinking in the water, and as if it were
only at the last possible moment that he had held out a saving hand.
But, by God's grace, he _did_ hold out the saving hand at last, and it
was grasped firmly, and a dear life was saved. Years after when Arthur
Eden had grown into--but stop, I must not so far anticipate my story.
Suffice it to say, that Walter's kindness to Eden, helped to bring about
long afterwards one of the chief happinesses of his own life.

"Come a st