wise unto salvation, and many others tried to spread the knowledge of the Book which had blessed them among their fellow-countrymen. Of these latter, some lost their employment, others were driven from their homes, and very many imprisoned for months together, or exiled from the country, "for the word of God and its testimony," while, until the passing of a recent law, everyone who possessed courage to profess himself a Protestant, lost his civil rights. Yet success has attended the circulation of the Bible, to a wonderful extent; and, without doubt, many secret disciples are hidden, up and down the cities and villages of Spain and Portugal, which the day alone shall declare."

66

Mr. Borrow experienced many adventures among Jews, and gipsies, in Spain, and, indeed, after much intercourse with the latter people, became much attached to them.

Sometimes also, he saw wolves, and, in New Castille, had some narrow escapes. About the same time that he was travelling in New Castille, two soldiers were also traversing the country, from one post to another, when they heard the dismal and discordant howling which indicates the near approach of a pack of wolves. Getting out of the path, they ascended a vine-clad, terraced hill, in order to allow the pack to gallop on undisturbed. Presently appeared about a dozen wolves, showing their white fangs, and grinning and growling terribly, while their eyes glared like firebrands. But, to the horror of

the soldiers, instead of keeping the path, the pack made for them, straight up the hill. One of the men was standing upon the lower terrace, and the troop of wolves rushed by him so close that he felt their hair brush against his legs. Still, they took no notice of him, but pressed up to his companion, and the she wolf which was leading the pack snapped at him, as if to indicate to the wolves that there lay their supper. In a moment, the dozen or more of wolves were on him, tearing him limb from limb, in spite of his struggles and shouts. Within ten minutes nothing was left of the poor fellow but the skull and a few bones; while the other soldier looked on petrified, expecting to share the same fate. Singular to relate, the pack passed by the second soldier without even noticing him, and made off into the forest as speedily as they had come.

Mr. Borrow heard this adventure from the lips of the survivor. Many times the missionary had reason to recall this story, when traversing dreary and desolate mountain regions, and to wonder whether he had escaped the robbers and cut-throats by which the caves were infested, only to be torn in pieces by wolves.

Thus, amid perils of no common kind, the Bible missionary went forth to sow the "seed of the kingdom." Some fell by the wayside, some on stony ground, others among thorns; but much doubtless fell into good ground, to bring forth a glorious harvest, in its own appointed time.

CHAPTER VII. HAT shall you say, if I don't come home to be married?" wrote Lewis Seaton. "I know you have always planned for your only child to be married in England, but Nina's relatives on her father's side are all Germans, and she wants the wedding to take place in her own country. So I think we shall get our wedding and wedding journey over before coming to England. Winter will soon be here, and we will fly south, and come back like swallows in the spring."

Mrs. Seaton was at first much exercised in her mind and decidedly against the plan, but Mr. Seaton reasoned on the other side: 66 They were old folks with but few relatives, and those at some distance, and a wedding would be not only a very onerous undertaking, but a very dull affair."

66

Besides, my dear," he added, "the Brands-I should not like flaunting wedding festivities in the face of their troubles."

turned Mrs. Seaton; "Lewis is our only son, and it might well be excused. Besides, I should like Alison to see that Lewis can have a merry wedding, in spite of her turning him adrift."

"That was always a doubtful point with me," said Mr. Seaton, with whom Alison had always been a great favourite. "I don't think it fair to make up our minds, even in the case of our own son, without hearing Alison's side of the matter."

"And that you will never hear," said Mrs. Seaton, decidedly.

"No, I suppose not," replied her husband.

And after a time Mrs. Seaton, having poured forth all her disappointment, and taken into due consideration Mr. Seaton's arguments, made up her mind that on the whole a wedding abroad would be best. So Lewis was left to pursue his own plans, and the Collingwoods decided to remain abroad until after the marriage was over.

And then south, even to Algeria and Egypt, for both Lewis and Nina longed for warmth and glorious skies, and in a perpetual summer to live the life of Eden, all joy and beauty and freshness that comes to some for awhile, but does not often last, as it might and ought to do if marriage were undertaken rightly.

And Alison heard of all the arrangements, for Mrs.

Seaton insisted on being communicative, and confided everything to Alison, who listened with a calm exterior, and perhaps with a sort of morbid interest, that she could not account for.

Aunt Miriam did all she could to intercept Mrs. Seaton's communications, for the good lady, being somewhat obtuse, imagined that now Lewis's days of vexation were over, there was nothing to prevent her being as friendly as ever with the Brands. Perhaps more so, in order to make up for past coolness. And besides, they were in trouble-Mr. Brand thoroughly helpless, and Mrs. Brand more fragile than ever. And even Alison, who had been so strong and active, and with such a flow of spirits, looked wan and dejected, and moved like a ghost about the house.

They want cheering up a little," said Mrs. Seaton to herself, "I must go and see them as often as I can."

So things went on, until the time came when Alison should receive the whole wealth of the family, when the riches which had surrounded her from childhood should pass unrestrained into her own hands.

It came with a twofold blow, for which Alison had not been prepared. But for the death of her father she had made up her mind. It must come before long; it was little more than a question of weeks or days.

And Alison watched and waited, and when at last the waning breath had ceased, she gazed almost thankfully on the placid face of the dead, which for a brief space seemed to have returned to earlier days, and to bear a strange, majestic beauty that she had not noticed in life.

She had followed the coffin to the little churchyard and seen it laid in the ground, and had heard the words of St. Paul ring out triumphant over the grave.

Then she returned, to find her mother stricken down beyond all hope of recovery. The slender silver cord that held her to life was loosened; the shock of her husband's death was too great for her to bear up against, and in a few days she was laid beside him. And Alison was left in the beautiful home, with all its appliances of luxury and all its treasures around her everything belonged to her-she was sole possessor of the riches her father had made. And these he had liberally bestowed upon others, and had not turned a deaf ear, or given with a niggard hand to any object or individual needing relief.

Aunt Miriam had been also in scenes of tribulation, though not with Alison, but on the news of the second death she hastened at once to her niece, in order to help with the calm but strong support of her presence.

She found Alison sitting beside her mother's bed, gazing on the dead face, in its delicate sculptured whiteness.

Alison did not rise to meet her; she took the hand that Miss Brand held out to her and grasped it with a strong grasp.

"Is she not beautiful?" she whispered. "Yes," answered Miss Brand; "there is an awful beauty in the first hours of death, that only the few appreciate. It seems as if for the moment there was a return to youth, as though death were willing to

shadow forth the life of glorious immortality, of renewed freshness and beauty, with which the spirit shall be clothed, in the heavenly mansions, where we shall be with Christ and in His likeness, Alison. It is a grand and consoling thought for us, taking away the sting of death. Child, child! the resurrection unto life is more to us even than the crucifixion. The risen Lord is more to us even than the dying Lord. It gives us that hope without which we should, in this life, be most miserable. In the one we behold with gratitude the love that made Him bear our sins upon the tree; we see the Man of sorrows acquainted with grief; but in the other we behold the Lord triumphant, we recognise the Son of God, divine and omnipotent. Alison, child, happy

are those who can say of their lost ones, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.''

Alison clasped her aunt's hands more tightly, her thoughts wandered away to the beautiful and wonderful vision of St. John.

"And there shall be no more sorrow and sighing," she murmured, "and no more weeping. Aunt Miriam, I seem to see the golden city and the golden street and the river, and the trees bearing their precious fruit. No more sorrow, no more tears, for the Lamb shall wipe them away. Oh, Aunt Miriam, I wish that I were there!"

And then, as if her aunt's sympathy had eased her heart, Alison rose up, and laying her head on her aunt's shoulder she wept bitterly.

Miss Brand did not check her emotion. She let her weep on until she could weep no longer. "The Lord gave us hearts of flesh to feel. He knows our frame, he remembers we are but dust. He pities us and does not blame our tears, but is full of mercy aud compassion."

And Miss Brand drew Alison gently from the room, and in the library, where they had so often talked with one another, they communed together again, and Alison gained strength and consolation.

CHAPTER VIII.

PRING came, and Mrs. Seaton's preparations began in earnest. Lewis and his wife were to be at home in June, and "it would not do for him to come and find nothing ready," she said.

"Not much chance of that," thought Alison, who had been called upon for her opinion in the re-furnishing of the rooms to be occupied by Lewis and his bride.

"For you see, Alison, they are to be here until Lewis decides what he is going to do. His father wants him to make up his mind; but Lewis does not seem to have thought of anything yet. However, he will not be far from London, and can run up whenever he likes; and he is sure to hear of something or other that may suit his fancy, for Mr. Seaton thinks that some kind of work in life is best, though there is no necessity for it. And I shall be able to teach Nina something of English house

keeping, in readiness for her having a house of her own. But, you see, we cannot do anything permanently till Lewis has made his plans."

"Aunt Miriam," said Alison, after one of Mrs. Seaton's confidences, "if you will go with me, I think I should like to go away for a time, perhaps abroad, but, at any rate, somewhere. I hope it isn't cowardly, but I would rather be away just at first." "I was thinking of it myself," said Aunt Miriam. Suppose we go to Devonshire for a couple of months? We are free to go where we choose-we have no claims upon us."

66

Alison's face flushed, and the old look of defiance came into it.

“Oh, Aunt Miriam ! can it be possible? Lookcan it be? Yes, it must be our Mr. Seaton."

Miss Brand looked over her niece's shoulder and read the following paragraph :

"The total collapse of the Moorashabad Mining Company will, we regret to say, bring heavy losses on the shareholders. Amongst them one of our local capitalists will suffer very considerably. We allude to Mr. Seaton, of Hatherley, who is one of the directors, and has a very large sum of money invested with the Company. We are afraid to state the amount of the losses, but we understand that the shareholders will lose every penny invested." The paper dropped from Alison's hand. "I suppose it is true.

Poor Mrs. Seaton !"

"I am afraid it is," returned Miss Brand. "I heard something of it at your Uncle Robert's, but I did not know that Mr. Seaton was concerned in it." Alison's face was glowing; her eyes shone as they had not shone for many months. Her heart was beating with a strange feeling that almost seemed a pleasurable one. Was she beginning to feel a certain sort of joy in the misfortunes of others? Whence was this curious sense of satisfaction that was creeping over her?

Aunt Miriam looked at her in surprise. "Why, Alison, you look as if you were rejoicing instead of feeling sorry."

But Alison returned no answer; she rocked backwards and forwards in the low rocking-chair, half humming an old tune to herself.

66

"Why, your grandmother used to sing that tune; I haven't heard it for years," said Miss Brand. "Yes," replied Alison, I suppose that is what made it come to my lips; I was thinking of my grandmother-of everything. Oh, Aunt Miriam, it is all wonderful! The story is fitting in chapter by chapter, and the bread cast on the waters and found after many days."

"Are you mad, Alison? How can you trouble Mrs. Seaton about such trifles when she will be so much troubled with graver matters ?" said Aunt Miriam.

Alison made no reply. She leaned back her head, closed her eyes, and went on humming the old tune. In due time her messenger returned to say that Mrs. Seaton had a bad headache and could not be disturbed. Mr. Seaton had just come home, and the servants thought there was bad news, but did not know if it was about Mr. Lewis or not.

"It's true then," said Alison quietly; "it was my way of finding out, Aunt Miriam." Then she added, "if I had been a saint, Aunt Miriam, I would have been St. Christopher."

CHAPTER IX.

JATE in the afternoon Alison stepped across to Mrs. Seaton's.

"Was she any better?" The servant did not know. Mrs. Seaton was just going to have a cup of tea. Would Miss Brand come in? Alison walked in, and waited in the drawing-room.

Soon a message came down. Mrs. Seaton would like to see her. So Alison went up the splendid staircase into the handsome boudoir, where Mrs. Seaton was lying on a sofa, half buried in its luxurious cushions.

"I'm glad to see you, Alison. We're in great trouble. But perhaps you have heard ?" and Mrs. Seaton looked anxiously at her visitor.

66

"I saw something in the paper," answered Alison, something about the Moorashabad Mines.'

Yes, Alison, that's it. Sit down, child; it will do me good to talk to you about it. Mr. Seaton has lost I don't know how many thousands. And we can't have Lewis at home; he'll have to stay abroad and economise. And we must shut up the house and sell it or let it or something, and dismiss the servants. It's all come so suddenly, and Mr. Seaton hasn't had time to turn round, or else perhaps he might have arranged-but I don't know what, for my head is so confused, only I know that what he says is this: It is a clear loss to me of nearly three thousand a year;' and that, you know, ruins us for the present."

"Yes," said Alison, dreamily.

"You see, we couldn't live here and have Lewis

Alison has an interview with Mr. Dealin.

and his wife, and keep it up in the way we intended. Indeed, Mr. Seaton doesn't know if we can keep it up at all. I daresay he will do his best; but it will break my heart to leave Hatherley. Oh, dear, dear! We all have our troubles, one way or another. You've lost your parents, and we've lost our money."

"Which is the lighter loss?" said Alison, half aside; but Mrs. Seaton caught the words.

"Yes, yes; that's true enough. It would have been worse to have lost Lewis; but it's very hard to come down in the world and to face poverty when one is growing old and has been accustomed to everything comfortable."

The old tune was still haunting Alison, though she did not hum it.

66

My grandmother was very poor, Mrs. Seaton, but she fought hard and won a great battle."

66

Ah, yes, child, to be sure; she was a wonderful woman; but she began earlier. It will go hard, too, with Lewis, who has never known what it is to be denied. If you had only married Lewis, Alison, as I hoped you would have done, there would have been your fortune to keep you both now; and it wouldn't have mattered so much for us old people."

Why did the light again leap up into Alison Brand's eyes? She went on talking and trying to comfort Mrs. Seaton, feeling more at home with her old neighbour than she had done for a long time. Perhaps it was that she felt their lots were being equalised; and all at once her despised riches seemed to have acquired a new value.

"I should like to see Mr. Seaton before I go," said Alison.

"He's in the library. You can go in as you pass through the hall. You won't mind my not going

with you? I feel as if I could take a nap. You've done me a great deal of good, Alison. Good-bye, and thank you!"

66

66

Come in," said Mr. Seaton; and Alison entered. "Alison! dear me ! What have you come for ?" "I've been to see Mrs. Seaton," replied Alison, "and she has told me something I half knew before, and I've come to you about it." Mr. Seaton looked over his spectacles at Alison. "I've come to talk over some business matters with you."

"Business matters! Why, what should you know about them?" and Mr. Seaton tried to smile, but the smile was a failure.

You are almost as rich as I was," said Mr. Seaton; "your father and I kept pretty even, but these last few years put me in advance."

Alison made no answer. She was nervously clutching at the arms of the chair as if to steady herself for the speech she was about to make. She spoke at last, in a high-pitched, unnatural voice.

66

66

Mr. Seaton, I want to say something to you, and you are not to say anything till I have finished." Mr. Seaton nodded. 'Mrs. Seaton has told me that you have lost almost three thousand a year, but that if it had not come so suddenly you perhaps could have arranged it, and it would be all right in two or three years, without any of the changes you propose making being necessary. And now you will have to alter everything, and it will not be the same for Lewis and his wife. Is this right ?"

Mr. Seaton stared at Alison, wondering what interest she could have in it.

"Yes; it has come so suddenly that the only way to meet it and to avoid going into debt is to retrench at once; and, perhaps, by selling Hatherley, and cutting down expenses, we may manage to make ends meet. But I have had other losses, of which my wife knows nothing, that will entail a return to business to retrieve matters. Lewis must lend a helping hand, and perhaps it will be better for him to have no choice in the matter, but to take his place with me in the office."

"And in the course of a few years you may be as rich as ever ?"

"I think so-if everything goes on as well as it is doing now."

Again Alison clutched at the chair, and at length jerked out abruptly