ACROSS THE PLAIN. man, and he free to marry her? God would not sanctify such a union. And I heard all you said of me, Kitty; I did not think you would have cared for my happiness so much." "I would do anything in the world for you, Laurence." "Yes, dear; but you shall not sacrifice your life to me, who would give mine to make you happy. It has been a terrible mistake," he said, turning to Jim, and we must set it right as best we can. Thank God it is not too late!" "It has indeed been a terrible mistake," replied Jim; "and I can say nothing, for I cannot help seeing that you are right; but I only wonder that Kitty cared for me when she had gained so great and noble a love as yours." Laurence put out his hand, he was almost staggering, and Jim caught it, and grasped it tightly for a minute. Then Laurence took Kitty's, and put it gently into Jim's. 805 So Kitty went to Cornwall, and Jim went down to see her, and the aunt was good-natured, and gave him a general invitation. It was agreed that they were to wait a couple of months. Jim wanted to arrange about leaving the army, for he had plenty of money now; "but I shan't lead an idle life," he said to Kitty, "for I like work." "And I should like a little rest after all this ex "Let it be my gift to you," he said; and the next minute they were alone, and standing silently to-citement before I am married," Kitty said, "and it gether in the quiet room. would seem kinder besides," and Jim, knowing her thoughts, consented. Laurence never knew how he walked back beneath the stars to his home. He looked round once at Rose Lodge, and shuddered with pain. "Perhaps it is better," he tried to think. "This trial may have been sent me to bind me closer to my work." The garden of his house had been done up; he could not bear to see the trim paths, and turned his head away as he passed them. "I will try not to tell Annie to-night," he thought; but as he entered the sitting-room, she said, in a cheery voice, without looking up from her sketching, "It's well you don't get married very often, Laurence; I wouldn't have believed there could have been so much to do." "Laurence!" She looked up, and saw the truth upon his face. He knew she would have to be told, and he told her then. "Don't talk to me about it, or console me, dear, only leave me alone," he said, when he had finished. "Yes," she answered, gently, "only let me say this, Laurence, and I know it well from experience, that God ordains things so wisely, that there is seldom even a great sorrow in our lives, but some day the time comes when, in looking back, we own meekly that it was well He sent it when it came." "I want you to tell me all about Hester," she said, as soon as they had a quiet hour to themselves, "for I cannot understand it all yet." "Well, dear, it is a long story," he said. "You see, I should have told you about it from the first, but it wasn't my own secret, and I'd no right to betray another's. Well, when we were at Woolwich we used sometimes to ride through Charlton of a morning, and on a stile leading into the hanging wood I often used to see a little figure sitting down reading. The face used to look up as we passed by, and watch us as we went along. I thought she was there by accident the first time I saw her; but after the third or fourth time it was quite evident that she "Don't do any more, Annie, hide everything away wanted her pretty face looked at, and I used to look connected with it." at it, and ride by, and forget all about it. I was learning to love yours even then, Kitty, though I only knew you slightly. Well, I and the other fellows got to talk about the pretty girl-she was sometimes on the stile, and sometimes passing near -but never troubled ourselves more about her. One day I was strolling through Charlton, and saw a little shop-a sort of toy-shop I think—and stopped to look at some walking-sticks exposed for sale in a corner of the window; and there, behind the counter, demurely reading a book, again was my pretty friend. Just out of sheer thoughtlessness, I went in and bought a stick, and got into conversation. She was pretty, there was no doubt of that, and she was reading some trashy novel that was not likely to do her much good. I thought it such a pity, for there was evidently intelligence enough in her; so I didn't read something better, and she said she'd no better books, so I offered to "Yes, dear," said Granny; "it is much better lend her some. She said it was very lonely, taking As soon as Granny was better Kitty went down to Cornwall, to stay with the aunt with whom Belle had stayed long since. "I would rather go away for a little time," she asked her why she said; "it will be kinder to Laurence." you. He was convinced at last that I had had nothing much to say to Hester. He then vented his wrath on Woodruffe. He felt certain she was in the habit of meeting, and having letters from him too, and so did Joe. I asked who Joe was; and got the key to the whole business, from the father's point of view. Joe was a young man who wanted to marry Hester, and to whom she had been engaged for a long time till lately, when, for some reason or other, she had suddenly jilted him. 'As decent and industrious a young fellow as ever you see too,' old Clayton said, with five hundred pounds of his own in the bank (left him by his grandfather, who was on his own account), and ready to marry her to-morrow, if she'd only say the word. She used to be so fond of him too,' her father said, 'till these fine fellows came dangling about.' I told him I'd do my best in the matter, and that I'd never flirted with her, and we parted excellent friends. I thought I'd speak to Woodruffe about it, but I forgot it once or twice when I saw him, and a week or two went on, I suppose, and one day, to my great surprise, I suddenly came upon Hester and Woodruffe together, strolling on towards Eltham, in a most spooney fashion. I was alarmed at once. I knew directly there was something more than flirtation in it—Alf wasn't a flirting man. I bowed, and passed on, and the next morning I meant to go round to Woodruffe and speak to him. There was something that worried me altogether about it. I knew he was an honourable fellow, and knew his people, and that if he married beneath him, it would cause the very greatest disturbance imaginable, and ruin his prospects for ever; that it would mean not only living on his pay, but being cut by every one belonging to him, which would be especially rough on him too, for he was very fond of his belongings. Then I didn't like Hester. Somehow there always seemed something that wasn't honest about her." care of the shop all day, for her father was at work | day I met her with the book, and turned off as I told till the evening, and her mother was mad, and she'd some little dirty-looking brothers and sisters playing about, or else at school; so I thought it was lonely, and she was a pretty girl, and it was a pity she should read trash-that was all; I hadn't another thought about her, darling. So one day I went and took her some books, and she was very grateful, and another day I went to take her some more, and the father was there, and the girl wasn't; it was his dinner-time, and the daughter had gone to the mad mother. I liked the father, there was something so honest about him and his bright red whiskers, and I'd a long chat with him, and told him I'd brought his daughter some books to read. He wasn't quite so cordial then, and said he didn't think that books did her much good, for she read them instead of keeping the house tidy. One day I told Alfred about old Clayton and his pretty daughter, and we walked over that evening, but Alfred left most of the talking to the father for me to do, and did nothing but look at Hester's pretty face. You see, darling, that was one reason why the whole business worried me so; I first took Alfred there, and felt in a manner responsible for all that occurred afterwards. I was uneasy from the first, for I saw Woodruffe was greatly struck with her. I went two or three times afterwards, and took Hester a book and so on, but I only saw the father once more, and then he cut up rather rough; and once, when I was taking her a book-I did not take her many after I heard she neglected her house-work-I met her as she was going my way, and we went on together, not far, for I made an excuse, and turned off. I knew it wouldn't do a girl in her position any good to be seen walking about with one of us Woolwich fellows, so I turned off on purpose. I didn't go near the place much after that, and didn't see much of Hester, but I knew Woodruffe often went, and went at times he knew the father would be out, and hung about talking. It wasn't any business of mine, so I didn't bother about it, and thought it was a little flirtation that would soon die away. Well, a pretty good time went on, and I'd really almost forgotten all about Hester and the whole business, when one night, certainly without a thought of her, I strolled round by Charlton, and then it occurred to me that though the old fellow had cut up rough last time, yet I'd just look in at the shop and buy a new stick, and see how he was. I was received with a terrific scowl, and the first words he said were, 'Well, my fine sir, have you come after Hester again, because if you have, you had better take yourself off pretty quick, for you're not wanted.' I didn't care about that sort of greeting, so I asked him what he meant? So gradually he told me that Hester's foolish little head was quite turned by the officers, and he, old Clayton, thought I was one of them who had helped to spoil her, especially as it seemed he caught sight of us the "So there did to me, Jim," interrupted Kitty; "she wasn't truthful." "No, my darling; if she had been, it would have made a world of difference to us both." "Well, go on, Jim, dear," Kitty said, looking up for the thousandth time at the handsome sunburnt face. She still wanted reassurance at intervals that she was wide-awake. "Woodruffe saved me the trouble of going to him the next morning by coming to me and making a clean breast of it. He was desperately in love with Hester, and he had promised to marry her. It put me in the most dreadful fright, and I reasoned with him as well as I could, but it was no use. He had considered the consequences, and he meant to give up the army, go abroad, and make a fight for fortune. He is an only son, you know, Kitty, and I knew it would break his mother's heart." THE VERACITY OF CHRIST. 807 "As you feared it would break your mother's if young minx carried on with both for some time. I you married me," began Kitty. liked him more and more, and asked him to come "I'll box your ears, miss, if you interrupt any round to my rooms in the evening; and he came, more," was the reply. "I told him Hester had been engaged before, but he knew that, and said she wasn't fit for a poor man's wife. I asked him how he thought she would do for his? 'Oh, his people would come round in time!' But his wife could never be received by the world, I told him. Then he'd give up the world. It was about that time, Kitty, that I brought him down here, hoping to keep him away as much as possible from Hester. I reasoned and talked to him, but it was no use. I went to see old Clayton, and, without betraying Alfred's confidence, I asked about the other young man the one in her own station, and heard where he worked, and all about him. I was quite desperate in the matter. Well, I determined I'd go and see the young man; and I went to his place of work, and caught him just as he was going to his dinner. He was as sulky as a bear when I explained who I was; but when I assured him I'd never made love to his young woman, and, moreover, had one of my own, he was more civil. I liked him immensely. There was something so thoroughly honest and straightforward about him. He told me a good deal about Hester; how he'd been engaged for three years to her, and how he saved his wages up in order to buy furniture without breaking in upon his five hundred pounds, which he meant to invest carefully. It seemed Hester had given him up some time after she had been engaged to Alfred, so the washed, and evidently in his best things, and told me about his work and his manner of life. He was a thoroughly good fellow, and I shall look him up again one day. I have quite a respect for a fellow like that, you know, Kitty, who has had nothing in life to help him on but his own industry, and think he has something to be proud of if he makes a position, much more than we have, who would go to the wall without a few helps from fortune." 'Yes, but do go on," said Kitty, impatiently. "He was as much in love with Hester as ever, he told me, and would marry her on the morrow if he had the chance. I told him he should have the chance if I could manage it, but it would probably not be so soon. I told Woodruffe all about it, and that was the first blow struck in his devotion to Hester. She had told him the engagement was broken off long before it was, and also that her father was harsh and cruel to her, which was quite untrue, for he was only naturally anxious that she should do what was right. Then his favourite sister, Helen, fell ill, and he went to see her, and he told her all about it, and she persuaded him to give it up; and she made him promise to try and break it off. He went, saw her, and the result was that when he came away he had promised to marry her that day three or four weeks hence." (To be concluded.) THE VERACITY OF CHRIST. BY THE REV. GEORGE A. CHADWICK, B.D., PREBENDARY AND RECTOR OF ARMAGH. HESE words remind us, first of all, of the veracity of our Lord's earthly life. They recall to us that one offered to devote his life to Him, and Jesus, instead of making a proselyte by every lawful means, soberly put before him the hardships of his enterprise. "Master," he said, "I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest;" but the answer was repellant rather than seductive, "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head." They remind us how He stood before the guilty council, heard it striving to wrest His utterances into some semblance of heresy, and spoke without blenching words which doomed Him to die as a blasphemer:-" Hercafter ye shall see the Son of Man sitting on the clouds, and coming with the angels." As we think on many such scenes, we understand His claim to a more than mortal "Thou hast royalty. "Art thou a king, then?" It Nor does He in this verse merely claim the ordinary virtue of shunning all false assertions. reads not, "If it were otherwise I would not have told you this," but "I would have told you that; I would not only have avoided all words that flatter, but would have kept nothing back, would have cleared up everything, however bitter and repulsive the fact might prove. I would have told you frankly if there were not room enough for you all in heaven." There were indeed some things which He told them not, because they were not ripe for such knowledge. You do not perplex with arithmetic a child who has not learned his letters, and there were truths beyond the capacity of these spiritual children. "I have many things to tell you, but ye cannot bear them now." But even these they were steadily drawn forward to comprehend, and the Spirit was promised who should lead them into all truth. Meantime these things were held over because they were too perplexing, not because they were too painful. For indeed in those days of His flesh, Christ shrank not from uttering the sternest and most alarming truths. A city is to be brought down to hell, to fare worse than Sodom and Gomorrah. Good were it for some men if they had never been born. There is a plac : where strong men wail and gnash their teeth, whee their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched. And as He did not captivate the world with honied accents, so He neither indulged Himself in golden day-dreams, nor allowed His people such indulgence. He saw, indeed, the splendour of His own destiny, but He told His own heart plainly through what floods of sorrow it should be reached. Desertion and betrayal, the allied brutality of the Jew and the Pagan, the agony, the scourge, the spitting, and the cross-His prophetic soul plainly saw them all. And He told His people their future hardships with the same transparent frankness. They were "blessed" it is true, but with the blessedness of those who mourn, who have all manner of evil said against them falsely, whom men hate and persecute. They shall have tribulation, shall be as sheep among wolves, he who killed them should think it a service done to God. Instead of wondering at the presence of one traitor among His followers, nothing but the divinity of Jesus can explain the fact that He retained one solitary disciple for a month. What soft charms and what majesty must have conspired to bind men to His feet; how must the accents of Paradise have flowed from His lips, and the light of heaven and its lightnings been alternately visible in His gaze, to have held men, with blessed fascination, spellbound, while He calmly devoted them to the hatred and violence of the whole world. So profound and far-reaching was Christ's candour when on earth. II. But since He is the same to-day as yesterday, we have to fix in our minds that Christ's religion hides nothing from us which we are at all concerned to know. It would not be His, unless it were not merely accurate, but thorough and frank and undisguised. True that there are mysteries still unrevealed to us. Why are temptation and sin tolerated? How did evil begin? Why is a second advent so long in coming? We cannot tell. God's word is a lamp unto our feet, a bright but narrow circle in the darkness, just enough for all practical ends to show us where to walk and what to shun. "But turn it to the mountains which encompass life and doom, And it flickers like a shadow, and it only shows a gloom." But we are sure that secrets are kept from us, as from the disciples of old, only because we are so foolish and ignorant that we cannot bear them yet; because they are beyond our grasp, not because we are being lured into discipleship by the concealment of anything, by the omission of any lights or shadows which would modify the picture as a whole. If things were otherwise than the Gospel describes them He would tell us. Apply this truth, then, to some questions of practical importance. At times we are tempted, in despondency and gloom, to doubt the freedom and the universality of the Gospel offers. We know the promises are large, and embrace the worst-and even those worse than the worst we think-at such times-who contrive to repress their wickedness, so that no external act betrays their dark hearts, no ripple nor foam on the surface tells how cold, and black, and deep, and rapid, is the smooth and silent stream. Even they may come, for all are bidden; but yet we think there may be something special in our case, some lurking evil undiscovered, some sins not repented of, some indulgence not forsaken. And instead of asking Christ to reveal and to subdue even this, instead of trusting all to that physician whose eyes pierce like a flame of fire into the very inmost lurking places of disease, we hesitate, we linger shivering on the brink of faith, like men who know the waters to be buoyant, and yet recoil from the decisive plunge. Surely, if there were any reserve, any exclusiveness, He would have told us. But He offers rest to all the weary. He knows of no other prodigal repentant and returning, save him for whom there is a fatted calf, and a robe of honour, and tears, and kisses of exultant affection, which are better than all the rest, and the title of a recovered sonship. Oh, to take refuge in all our depression, all our infidelity, behind this rampart, which no artillery of hell can batter down, the gracious words of Him who spake as never man spake! And to believe heartily that not once only, but all our lives long, He stands with blessings piled in both hands, more ready to give than we to ask of Him! He is pledged to be with us always, even to the end of the world. Not only upon great and tragical occasions; not only when an evil spirit seemed to glide across the waves to rejoice over a foundering crew, and they looked, and behold it was the Lord of love; not only when a panic-stricken company barred their doors for fear of the Jews, and they looked, and in the midst of them was their |