Mr. Dykes said, 'Thank you, my little maid.-Give her a glass of wine after all that.'

The young ladies hovered over her, calling her pretty names; the young gentleman from Lilport looked at her through an eye-glass; M. Mallet lifted both hands, and cried, 'Mais c'est merveilleux!' and Mrs. Lester kissed her with tears in her eyes.

It was less than a week after this, when Bill Waters came home one evening before Nella had gone up to bed, alone, sober, and very cross. He banged the chairs about as if they were his mortal enemies, refused to let Nella fill his pipe, (which she had learned to do,) and then began to suck in long draughts of tobacco smoke with a spiteful sort of energy. At last his anger broke out in words. So they're going to take you away,' he began, knocking the ash out of his pipe with such force, that he broke the stem. 'You're too fine a fish for poor Bill's pond, I s'pose.'

'Who will take me away?' asked Nella timidly.

Bill answered with a grunt. Umph! If you don't know, you'll hear soon enough. After I've made you a room fit for a princess, too! Well, it's only what them as isn't rich has to look for. The rich allers had a spite agin 'em.'

Nella seldom talked to Bill; but now she was so anxious to know what he meant, that she brought her stool, as on the first night when he had shown her the little Chinee' on the handkerchief. She sat down at his knee, and asked him, in a pretty voice, 'Please, Bill, what is it?'

'You'll hear to-morrow from Mrs. Lester,' he answered gruffly, filling himself another pipe; but after a dozen pulls, glancing down uneasily at the pretty plaintive little face which was watching him, he broke out anew. Hang it! They're about right, after all! You're

too fine-made a article for Black Bill: there ain't no good denyin' of it.'

He looked so strange and red about the eyes, that Nella was half frightened, and got up to go to bed.

'I do not want to go from you, Bill,' she said, in her slow careful

way.

'Oh, you'll be glad enough, like all the rest of 'em, to turn your back on a poor man,' he replied quite savagely.

Then Nella went away, and left him, so curious to know what new fate was hanging over her, that she could not sleep for two long hours.

She asked Mrs. Lester the meaning of Bill's words, as soon as she reached school on the following day; but the mistress only said, 'Wait awhile, my dear: we are to go to Mr. Dykes's after twelve; he will tell you better than I can.'

At half-past twelve, accordingly, the two appeared hand-in-hand at the Rectory door. They found the parson in his study, with a nice lunch spread for them. He would explain nothing until they had eaten.

'Make a good dinner, little one,' he said; but Nella was so excited,
that her appetite had run away. She had to wait, however, until Mrs.
Lester had laid down her knife and fork. And then the Rector brought a
chair close to her, sat down there, and taking her hand kindly in his, said
in a slow clear voice, 'Should you like to learn music very well, Nella?
'Oh yes,' she eagerly replied.
'Monsieur Mallet, who sang for us so beautifully, came to me the day
after our concert, and spoke to me about you. He was much surprised
at your music. He says you already play well; and with good teaching,
will some day play very nicely indeed. He is so good as to offer to
have you taught by a good master, and to find you a home meanwhile,
in London, with himself and his wife, who, he says, will be very kind
to you. It will be a great change, my dear child, in every way. I
almost fear this new life for you; yet it seems as though God Himself
were calling you to it; and if so, we must trust in His wisdom.' Here
the Rector turned to the school-mistress, and went on in a lower tone:-
'Mrs. Murray assures me that Madame Mallet is a good-natured person,
and quite respectable; else I should not think of letting the child go
out of our sight. But we can still exercise a sort of supervision, by
means of letters and Mrs. Murray; and it does seem a pity that such
talent should be wasted.-Now, my little Nella, have you thought over
the matter? Did you understand me?'

It seemed that Nella had understood; for she said, 'Should I ever come back here, Sir ?'

'Certainly. Often, I hope.'

'Are there many persons in London ?"

'Very many more than you can count.'

'Shall I see Miss Charteris there some day?'

This was asked with very eager eyes.

'Most likely you will.'

"Therefore I should like it much, please,' she concluded, using a wrong word, as she often did still; though it was wonderful how quickly and how well she had learned to speak English.

It was now settled that Nella should go to London. Mr. Dykes had already spoken on the matter to Bill, pointing out to him that it would be for the girl's good; and Bill had said, though very sulkily, 'I s'pose she'll have to go.'

Letters passed between Mr. Dykes and Monsieur Mallet, who fixed a day on which Madame Mallet would come down to Brentholm to fetch her interesting little charge,' as her husband called Campanella. Then you may think what cuttings-out and fittings-on, and tacking and sewing and hemming, went on in the school, in order to get the little musician ready for her journey.

'I can't bear it to look as if she hadn't any friends, the poor darling!' said Mrs. Lester. 'There's nothing more than a child's clothes shows where the mother's heart is.'

Mrs. Lester herself gave liberally to Nella's wardrobe. Mr. Dykes offered, in a bachelor's ignorant wholesale way, to pay for anything she might want: he supposed she would want a new frock or so. Mrs. Murray, the Rector's friend and adviser, was very liberal, both of help and counsel. And Bill, whose independence had now become a permanent fit of the sulks, nevertheless brought a little pile of coins to Mrs. Lester, 'for the little 'un's trimmin's.'

So Nella was well provided. A nice new trunk was bought; and her linen, when made, was laid in it in heaps, with a lavender bag and a sheet of tissue paper over each layer. There were two little black frocks, one absolutely made of silk, with a white crape tucker; for, as Mrs. Lester said apologetically, 'The child might come across great people now.'

All the school-children sewed with much industry and pleasure, looking at their school-fellow, as they threaded their needles, with quite an awe and amazement. Was she not going to the great and wonderful London, where Dick Whittington and his cat had lived!

Nella herself stitched away as fast as her fingers would go. Those fingers trembled a good deal; for here was a new change, as sudden, and almost as great, as that which had befallen her before, through the wild will of the waves, as it seemed then. She was sorry to leave beautiful Brentholm, and the people, who had been so kind; she was sorry to leave her own pretty little room; she was afraid of the strange faces which would surround her in London. But then, she would learn to play music, really fine music! finer and sweeter, perhaps, than the fiddling of the dirty little German. This alone was sufficient to make her long for the new life, in spite of its uncertainty.

At last came a certain Wednesday evening, her last in the pretty coasting village. On the next morning, Madame Mallet was to take her away. She was to arrive in Brentholm that very night; to sleep at Mrs. Murray's; and to-morrow would return to London with her charge.' The linen, lavender bags, and all, was packed and locked in the new trunk; the school-children had kissed Nella for good-bye; and now the little girl had come to bid farewell to her dear church tower. Tolling Jem was ringing the passing-bell again, over an old old sailor, who, having been buffeted about on the waves during eight-and-seventy years, had now gone to the peaceful land, where is no more sea. the child came into the belfry, so quietly that it seemed rather like a sudden appearing there than an ordinary walking in, the sexton nodded to her, and said, in his gruff good-natured voice, 'So you're agoin' to leave us. Glad to leave us, ain't you?'

'I am sorry to leave you, Jem,' answered Nella sincerely.

When

Then she went up the stairs, to where her little stool lived among the bells. She took it in her hand, and carried it still further up, through the door, on to the clear open space beneath the sky. A year had passed since Nella had first sat on the tower.

It was

again a soft spring evening, and the time of sunset; not so gorgeous a sunset, however, as that which I once described to you: this was merely one great sheet of amber-coloured flame, deep, soft, and translucent, not dazzling. It threw a pure warm light, like a kiss, on the sea, and on the graves beneath the tower, whose head-stones glowed as if they were made of amber. Across the yellow sky, two long bars of cloud were slowly closing, like the portcullis of an old castle. The tones of the passing-bell came up to her in a deep thrilling boom; the tower trembled at them. Nella watched the glory fade out of the sky, and the cloudgates shut and lock; the stars began to shine; before her glittered that star which she always thought of as a home for happy spirits. watching it, and thinking of dear Miss Charteris, who had first met her in that place, Campanella fell asleep.

Still

In her sleep, she had a dream. It seemed to her that she was still looking at the star, when suddenly she saw that it was growing larger and nearer. It came so near, that it flooded all the land and sea in a clear white light, like liquid diamond. It orbed down towards herself, until at last, like a vast ball of transparent light as clear as glass, it swooped forward, and burst, and broke up before her sight in a million million sparkles of crystal fire. Then she perceived that within what seemed this outer shell of brightness, stood a mighty gate, fast closed, made all of burnished gold. So great a light shone upon its polished surface, that it had the clearness of transparency; yet it was not transparent, for nothing could be seen behind or through it. Before it stood a calm great angel, with folded wings, like those angels of the sunset, such as she had imagined them. There was a living quiver and thrill in the air; and soon, through the exceeding brightness which veiled from sight as mist veils, the child saw that all this motion proceeded from a countless host of spirits, who were seeking admission at the gate. The angel stood calm and still, his grave eyes looking far before him. A bell, wonderfully rich and deep, as though all the beautiful music which had ever sounded on earth had been produced only to form this one perfect harmony, gave out a single knell. The angel turned, and his eyes fell upon the crowd of spirits. He smiled on them, an angel's smile, and laid his hand on the lock of the gate. The spirits came forward in solemn order-faint forms, in whose lightness was bliss. Then Nella saw that none presented itself singly before the angel, but each drew another soul along with it in a close embrace. Sometimes a group of three or four appeared together, but never one alone. So all were ranged beside the angel, ready to pass through when the gates should be opened.

Last of all, a little spirit came flying belated through the air, having no fellow spirit beside it, and some way Nella knew at once that this was she herself. Her heart beat with hope and fear; she hoped so that the angel would look kindly on this poor solitary little soul. But alas! he looked grave when it came before him, and did not appoint it a place

in the happy row. Why art thou alone?' he asked, his voice being like the voice of the bell. The spirit could answer nothing, but seemed to shrink in confusion and dread. 'Where is that poor man's soul which was given to thee?' the angel asked again. Then Nella saw for the first time that her dead mother stood beside the angel, and was looking towards her poor little spirit with longing loving eyes, and outstretched arms. 'No one can enter here alone,' the angel said. Then he turned a golden key in the massive lock; the gates swung slowly back; a dazzling fragrant warmth broke out; the other spirits trooped into it in a great company.

Last of all, the gentle mother turned to enter, while the soul of her little one was falling back and away into a great cold and darkness. The mother said regretfully, 'If we do not bring one soul with us, how can we prove to the Lord Jesus that we have loved Him?'

Nella awoke with a sob, shivering in the cold air of the April evening.

CHAPTER XI.

THERE was a great deal of Madame Mallet. First of all, there was a round, fat, English face, with very red cheeks and a very white skin, rather more red and white than nature. Next there was a quantity of fair frizzled hair, which tried hard to make the round face look French, but without success. There was a tall heavy figure, a pair of broad shoulders, a fine Chinese shawl, a black velvet dress. There was also a great deal of Madame Mallet's bonnet. It was now the fashion for ladies to wear flower-gardens and sometimes kitchen-gardens too on their heads, and the structure which crowned Madame's was wreathed with some black cherries, some white roses, two little apples, and a red cactus, like a list out of a vocabulary. When Nella went, as she had been bidden, to Mrs. Murray's, this lady bore down upon her at once, almost smothering her under her vast person. She embraced and kissed the little girl very heartily, and said,

'My child, I will be a mother to you. You may rely upon me, Mrs. Murray; I will be a mother to her.'

She looked very kind, and Campanella thought she should like her. The two had a long drive to the train in Mrs. Murray's beautiful carriage; but Nella could not enjoy it much for sorrow at leaving kind Mrs. Lester. Madame talked to her at first, but, finding her companion was very silent, she soon popped her feet up on the opposite seat and closed her eyes, perhaps to think the better. In the train she did the same, first taking off the vegetable bonnet and replacing it by a blue opera hood which she brought out of her pocket. She smiled sweetly in her dreams. There were other persons in the carriage, but she made herself none the less comfortable on their account.

Nella sat bolt upright, her little feet dangling, very shy and timid, now