EVERY thing did "go beautifully" for a time; so much so, thatChristie began to think she really had "got religion." A delightfulpeace pervaded her soul, a new interest made the dullest taskagreeable, and life grew so inexpressibly sweet that she felt as ifshe could forgive all her enemies, love her friends more than ever,and do any thing great, good, or glorious.

She had known such moods before, but they had never lasted long, andwere not so intense as this; therefore, she was sure some blessedpower had come to uphold and cheer her. She sang like a lark as sheswept and dusted; thought high and happy thoughts among the pots andkettles, and, when she sat sewing, smiled unconsciously as if somedeep satisfaction made sunshine from within. Heart and soul seemedto wake up and rejoice as naturally and beautifully as flowers inthe spring. A soft brightness shone in her eyes, a fuller tonesounded in her voice, and her face grew young and blooming with thehappiness that transfigures all it touches.

"Christie 's growing handsome," David would say to his mother, as ifshe was a flower in which he took pride.

"Thee is a good gardener, Davy," the old lady would reply, and whenhe was busy would watch him with a tender sort of anxiety, as if todiscover a like change in him.

But no alteration appeared, except more cheerfulness and lesssilence; for now there was no need to hide his real self, and allthe social virtues in him came out delightfully after their longsolitude.

In her present uplifted state, Christie could no more help regardingDavid as a martyr and admiring him for it, than she could helpmixing sentiment with her sympathy. By the light of the lateconfessions, his life and character looked very different to hernow. His apparent contentment was resignation; his cheerfulness, amanly contempt for complaint; his reserve, the modest reticence ofone who, having done a hard duty well, desires no praise for it.Like all enthusiastic persons, Christie had a hearty admiration forself-sacrifice and self-control; and, while she learned to seeDavid's virtues, she also exaggerated them, and could not do enoughto show the daily increasing esteem and respect she felt for him,and to atone for the injustice she once did him.

She grubbed in the garden and green-house, and learned hardbotanical names that she might be able to talk intelligently uponsubjects that interested her comrade. Then, as autumn endedout-of-door work, she tried to make home more comfortable andattractive than ever.

David's room was her especial care; for now to her there wassomething pathetic in the place and its poor furnishing. He hadfought many a silent battle there; won many a secret victory; andtried to cheer his solitude with the best thoughts the minds of thebravest, wisest men could give him.

She did not smile at the dilapidated idols now, but touched themtenderly, and let no dust obscure their well-beloved faces. She setthe books in order daily, taking many a sip of refreshment from themby the way, and respectfully regarded those in unknown tongues, fullof admiration for David's learning. She covered the irruptive sofaneatly; saw that the little vase was always clear and freshlyfilled; cared for the nursery in the gable-window; and preserved anexquisite neatness everywhere, which delighted the soul of theroom's order-loving occupant.

She also - alas, for romance! - cooked the dishes David loved, andliked to see him enjoy them with the appetite which once had shockedher so. She watched over his buttons with a vigilance that wouldhave softened the heart of the crustiest bachelor: she even gaveherself the complexion of a lemon by wearing blue, because Davidliked the pretty contrast with his mother's drabs.

After recording that last fact, it is unnecessary to explain whatwas the matter with Christie. She honestly thought she had gotreligion; but it was piety's twin-sister, who produced thiswonderful revival in her soul; and though she began in all goodfaith she presently discovered that she was

After the birthnight confessions, David found it easier to go onwith the humdrum life he had chosen from a sense of duty; for now hefelt as if he had not only a fellow-worker, but a comrade and friendwho understood, sympathized with, and encouraged him by an interestand good-will inexpressibly comfortable and inspiring. Nothingdisturbed the charm of the new league in those early days; forChristie was thoroughly simple and sincere, and did her womanly workwith no thought of reward or love or admiration.

David saw this, and felt it more attractive than any gift of beautyor fascination of manner would have been. He had no desire to be alover, having forbidden himself that hope; but he found it so easyand pleasant to be a friend that he reproached himself for nottrying it before; and explained his neglect by the fact thatChristie was not an ordinary woman, since none of all the many hehad known and helped, had ever been any thing to him but objects ofpity and protection.

Mrs. Sterling saw these changes with her wise, motherly eyes, butsaid nothing; for she influenced others by the silent power ofcharacter. Speaking little, and unusually gifted with the meditativehabits of age, she seemed to live in a more peaceful world thanthis. As George MacDonald somewhere says, "Her soul seemed to sitapart in a sunny little room, safe from dust and noise, serenelyregarding passers-by through the clear muslin curtains of herwindow."

Yet, she was neither cold nor careless, stern nor selfish, but readyto share all the joys and sorrows of those about her; and whenadvice was asked she gave it gladly. Christie had won her heart longago, and now was as devoted as a daughter to her; lightening hercares so skilfully that many of them slipped naturally on to theyoung shoulders, and left the old lady much time for rest, or thelighter tasks fitted for feeble hands. Christie often called her"Mother," and felt herself rewarded for the hardest, humblest jobshe ever did when the sweet old voice said gratefully, "I thankthee, daughter."

Things were in this prosperous, not to say paradisiacal, state, whenone member of the family began to make discoveries of an alarmingnature. The first was that the Sunday pilgrimages to church wereseasons of great refreshment to soul and body when David went also,and utter failures if he did not. Next, that the restless ambitionsof all sorts were quite gone; for now Christie's mission seemed tobe sitting in a quiet corner and making shirts in the most exquisitemanner, while thinking about - well, say botany, or any kindredsubject. Thirdly, that home was woman's sphere after all, and theperfect roasting of beef, brewing of tea, and concocting ofdelectable puddings, an end worth living for if masculinecommendation rewarded the labor.

Fourthly, and worst of all, she discovered that she was notsatisfied with half confidences, and quite pined to know all about"David's trouble." The little needle-book with the faded "Letty" onit haunted her; and when, after a pleasant evening below, she heardhim pace his room for hours, or play melancholy airs upon the flute,she was jealous of that unknown woman who had such power to disturbhis peace, and felt a strong desire to smash the musical confidanteinto whose responsive breast he poured his woe.

At this point Christie paused; and, after evading any explanation ofthese phenomena in the most skilful manner for a time, suddenlyfaced the fact, saying to herself with great candor and decision:

"I know what all this means: I'm beginning to like David more thanis good for me. I see this clearly, and won't dodge any longer, butput a stop to it at once. Of course I can if I choose, and now isthe time to do it; for I understand myself perfectly, and if I reacha certain point it is all over with me. That point I will not reach:David's heart is in that Letty's grave, and he only cares for me asa friend. I promised to be one to him, and I'll keep my word like anhonest woman. It may not be easy; but all the sacrifices shall notbe his, and I won't be a fool."

With praiseworthy resolution Christie set about the reformationwithout delay; not an easy task and one that taxed all her wit andwisdom to execute without betraying the motive for it. She decidedthat Mrs. Sterling must not be left alone on Sunday, so the youngpeople took turns to go to church, and such dismal trips Christiehad never known; for all her Sundays were bad weather, and Mr. Powerseemed to hit on unusually uninteresting texts.

She talked while she sewed instead of indulging in dangerousthoughts, and Mrs. Sterling was surprised and entertained by thisnew loquacity. In the evening she read and studied with a diligencethat amazed and rather disgusted David; since she kept all herlively chat for his mother, and pored over her books when he wantedher for other things.

"I'm trying to brighten up my wits," she said, and went on trying tostifle her affections.

But though "the absurdity," as she called the new revelation, wasstopped externally, it continued with redoubled vigor internally.Each night she said, "this must be conquered," yet each morning itrose fair and strong to make the light and beauty of her day, andconquer her again. She did her best and bravest, but was forced atlast to own that she could not "put a stop to it," because she hadalready reached the point where "it was all over with her."

Just at this critical moment an event occurred which completedChristie's defeat, and made her feel that her only safety lay inflight.

One evening she sat studying ferns, and heroically saying over andover, "Andiantum, Aspidium, and Asplenium, Trichomanes," whilelonging to go and talk delightfully to David, who sat musing by thefire.

"I can't go on so much longer," she thought despairingly."Polypodium aureum, a native of Florida," is all very interesting inits place; but it doesn't help me to gain self-control a bit, and Ishall disgrace myself if something doesn't happen very soon."

Something did happen almost instantly; for as she shut the coversharply on the poor Polypods, a knock was heard, and before Davidcould answer it the door flew open and a girl ran in. Straight tohim she went, and clinging to his arm said excitedly: "Oh, do takecare of me: I 've run away again!"

"Why, Kitty, what's the matter now?" asked David, putting back herhood, and looking down at her with the paternal expression Christiehad not seen for a long time, and missed very much.

"Father found me, and took me home, and wanted me to marry adreadful man, and I wouldn't, so I ran away to you. He didn't know Icame here before, and I'm safe if you'll let me stay," cried Kitty,still clinging and imploring.

"Of course I will, and glad to see you back again," answered David,adding pitifully, as he put her in his easy-chair, took her cloakand hood off and stood stroking her curly hair: "Poor little girl!it is hard to have to run away so much: isn't it?"

"Not if I come here; it's so pleasant I'd like to stay all my life,"and Kitty took a long breath, as if her troubles were over now."Who's that?" she asked suddenly, as her eye fell on Christie, whosat watching her with interest:

"That is our good friend Miss Devon. She came to take your place,and we got so fond of her we could not let her go," answered Davidwith a gesture of introduction, quite unconscious that his positionjust then was about as safe and pleasant as that of a man between alighted candle and an open powder barrel.

The two young women nodded to each other, took a swift survey, andmade up their minds before David had poked the fire. Christie saw apretty face with rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and brown rings of hairlying on the smooth, low forehead; a young face, but not childlike,for it was conscious of its own prettiness, and betrayed the fact bylittle airs and graces that reminded one of a coquettish kitten.Short and slender, she looked more youthful than she was; while agay dress, with gilt ear-rings, locket at the throat, and a cherryribbon in her hair made her a bright little figure in that plainroom.

Christie suddenly felt as if ten years had been added to her age, asshe eyed the new-comer, who leaned back in the great chair talkingto David, who stood on the rug, evidently finding it pleasanter tolook at the vivacious face before him than at the fire.

"Just the pretty, lively sort of girl sensible men often marry, andthen discover how silly they are," thought Christie, taking up herwork and assuming an indifferent air.

"She's a lady and nice looking, but I know I shan't like her," wasKitty's decision, as she turned away and devoted herself to David,hoping he would perceive how much she had improved and admire heraccordingly.

"So you don't want to marry this Miles because he is not handsome.You'd better think again before you make up your mind. He isrespectable, well off, and fond of you, it seems. Why not try it,Kitty? You need some one to take care of you sadly," David said,when her story had been told.

"If father plagues me much I may take the man; but I'd rather havethe other one if he wasn't poor," answered Kitty with a side-longglance of the blue eyes, and a conscious smile on the red lips.

"Oh, there's another lover, is there?"

"Lots of 'em."

David laughed and looked at Christie as if inviting her to be amusedwith the freaks and prattle of a child. But Christie sewed awaywithout a sign of interest.

"That won't do, Kitty: you are too young for much of such nonsense.I shall keep you here a while, and see if we can't settle mattersboth wisely and pleasantly," he said, shaking his head as sagely asa grandfather.

"I'm sure I wish you would: I love to stay here, you are always sogood to me. I'm in no hurry to be married; and you won't make me:will you?"

Kitty rose as she spoke, and stood before him with a beseechinglittle gesture, and a confiding air quite captivating to behold.

Christie was suddenly seized with a strong desire to shake the girland call her an "artful little hussy," but crushed thisunaccountable impulse, and hemmed a pocket-handkerchief withreckless rapidity, while she stole covert glances at the tableau bythe fire.

David put his finger under Kitty's round chin, and lifting her facelooked into it, trying to discover if she really cared for thissuitor who seemed so providentially provided for her. Kitty smiledand blushed, and dimpled under that grave look so prettily that itsoon changed, and David let her go, saying indulgently:

"You shall not be troubled, for you are only a child after all. Letthe lovers go, and stay and play with me, for I've been ratherlonely lately."

"That's a reproach for me," thought Christie, longing to cry out:"No, no; send the girl away and let me be all in all to you." Butshe only turned up the lamp and pretended to be looking for a spool,while her heart ached and her eyes were too dim for seeing.

"I'm too old to play, but I'll stay and tease you as I used to, ifMiles don't come and carry me off as he said he would," answeredKitty, with a toss of the head which showed she was not so childlikeas David fancied. But the next minute she was sitting on a stool athis feet petting the cat, while she told her adventures with girlishvolubility.

Christie could not bear to sit and look on any longer, so she leftthe room, saying she would see if Mrs. Sterling wanted any thing,for the old lady kept her room with a touch of rheumatism. As sheshut the door, Christie heard Kitty say softly:

"Now we'll be comfortable as we used to be: won't we?"

What David answered Christie did not stay to hear, but went into thekitchen, and had her first pang of jealousy out alone, while shebeat up the buckwheats for breakfast with an energy that made themmiracles of lightness on the morrow.

When she told Mrs. Sterling of the new arrival, the placid littlelady gave a cluck of regret and said with unusual emphasis:

"I'm sorry for it."

"Why?" asked Christie, feeling as if she could embrace the speakerfor the words.

"She is a giddy little thing, and much care to whoever befriendsher." Mrs. Sterling would say no more, but, as Christie bade hergood-night, she held her hand, saying with a kiss:

"No one will take thy place with me, my daughter."

For a week Christie suffered constant pin-pricks of jealousy,despising herself all the time, and trying to be friendly with thedisturber of her peace. As if prompted by an evil spirit, Kittyunconsciously tried and tormented her from morning to night, and noone saw or guessed it unless Mrs. Sterling's motherly heart divinedthe truth. David seemed to enjoy the girl's lively chat, her openlyexpressed affection, and the fresh young face that always brightenedwhen he came.

Presently, however, Christie saw a change in him, and suspected thathe had discovered that Kitty was a child no longer, but a young girlwith her head full of love and lovers. The blue eyes grew shy, thepretty face grew eloquent with blushes now and then, as he looked atit, and the lively tongue faltered sometimes in speaking to him. Athousand little coquetries were played off for his benefit, andfrequent appeals for advice in her heart affairs kept tendersubjects uppermost in their conversations.

At first all this seemed to amuse David as much as if Kitty were asmall child playing at sweethearts; but soon his manner changed,growing respectful, and a little cool when Kitty was most confiding.He no longer laughed about Miles, stopped calling her "little girl,"and dropped his paternal ways as he had done with Christie. By manyindescribable but significant signs he showed that he consideredKitty a woman now and treated her as such, being all the morescrupulous in the respect he paid her, because she was sounprotected, and so wanting in the natural dignity and refinementwhich are a woman's best protection.

Christie admired him for this, but saw in it the beginning of atenderer feeling than pity, and felt each day that she was one toomany now.

Kitty was puzzled and piqued by these changes, and being a bornflirt tried all her powers on David, veiled under guilelessgirlishness. She was very pretty, very charming, and at times mostlovable and sweet when all that was best in her shallow little heartwas touched. But it was evident to all that her early acquaintancewith the hard and sordid side of life had brushed the bloom from hernature, and filled her mind with thoughts and feelings unfitted toher years.

Mrs. Sterling was very kind to her, but never treated her as she didChristie; and though not a word was spoken between them the elderwomen knew that they quite agreed in their opinion of Kitty. Sheevidently was rather afraid of the old lady, who said so little andsaw so much. Christie also she shunned without appearing to do so,and when alone with her put on airs that half amused, half irritatedthe other.

"David is my friend, and I don't care for any one else," her mannersaid as plainly as words; and to him she devoted herself soentirely, and apparently so successfully, that Christie made up hermind he had at last begun to forget his Letty, and think of fillingthe void her loss had left.

A few words which she accidentally overheard confirmed this idea,and showed her what she must do. As she came quietly in one eveningfrom a stroll in the lane, and stood taking off cloak and hood, shecaught a glimpse through the half-open parlor door of David pacingto and fro with a curiously excited expression on his face, andheard Mrs. Sterling say with unusual warmth:

"Thee is too hard upon thyself, Davy. Forget the past and be happyas other men are. Thee has atoned for thy fault long ago, so let mesee thee at peace before I die, my son."

"Not yet, mother, not yet. I have no right to hope or ask for anywoman's love till I am worthier of it," answered David in a tonethat thrilled Christie's heart: it was so full of love and longing.

Here Kitty came running in from the green-house with her hands fullof flowers, and passing Christie, who was fumbling among the cloaksin the passage, she went to show David some new blossom.

He had no time to alter the expression of his face for its usualgrave serenity: Kitty saw the change at once, and spoke of it withher accustomed want of tact.

"How handsome you look! What are you thinking about?" she said,gazing up at him with her own eyes bright with wonder, and hercheeks glowing with the delicate carmine of the frosty air.

"I am thinking that you look more like a rose than ever," answeredDavid turning her attention from himself by a compliment, andbeginning to admire the flowers, still with that flushed and kindledlook on his own face.

Christie crept upstairs, and, sitting in the dark, decided with thefirmness of despair to go away, lest she should betray the secretthat possessed her, a dead hope now, but still too dear to beconcealed.

"Mr. Power told me to come to him when I got tired of this. I'll sayI am tired and try something else, no matter what: I can bear anything, but to stand quietly by and see David marry thatempty-hearted girl, who dares to show that she desires to win him.Out of sight of all this, I can conquer my love, at least hide it;but if I stay I know I shall betray myself in some bitter minute,and I'd rather die than do that."

Armed with this resolution, Christie went the next day to Mr. Power,and simply said: "I am not needed at the Sterlings any more: can yougive me other work to do?"

Mr. Power's keen eye searched her face for a moment, as if todiscover the real motive for her wish. But Christie had nervedherself to bear that look, and showed no sign of her real trouble,unless the set expression of her lips, and the unnatural steadinessof her eyes betrayed it to that experienced reader of human hearts.

Whatever he suspected or saw, Mr. Power kept to himself, andanswered in his cordial way:

"Well, I've been expecting you would tire of that quiet life, andhave plenty of work ready for you. One of my good Dorcases is tiredout and must rest; so you shall take her place and visit my poor,report their needs, and supply them as fast as we can. Does thatsuit you?"

"Entirely, sir. Where shall I live?" asked Christie, with anexpression of relief that said much.

"Here for the present. I want a secretary to put my papers in order,write some of my letters, and do a thousand things to help a busyman. My old housekeeper likes you, and will let you take a dusternow and then if you don't find enough other work to do. When can youcome?"

Christie answered with a long breath of satisfaction: "To-morrow, ifyou like."

"I do: can you be spared so soon?"

"Oh, yes! they don't want me now at all, or I would not leave them.Kitty can take my place: she needs protection more than I; and thereis not room for two." She checked herself there, conscious that atone of bitterness had crept into her voice. Then quite steadily sheadded:

"Will you be kind enough to write, and ask Mrs. Sterling if she canspare me? I shall find it hard to tell her myself, for I fear shemay think me ungrateful after all her kindness."

"No: she is used to parting with those whom she has helped, and isalways glad to set them on their way toward better things. I willwrite to-morrow, and you can come whenever you will, sure of awelcome, my child."

Something in the tone of those last words, and the pressure of thestrong, kind hand, touched Christie's sore heart, and made itimpossible for her to hide the truth entirely.

She only said: "Thank you, sir. I shall be very glad to come;" buther eyes were full, and she held his hand an instant, as if sheclung to it sure of succor and support.

Then she went home so pale and quiet; so helpful, patient, andaffectionate, that Mrs. Sterling watched her anxiously; David lookedamazed; and, even self-absorbed Kitty saw the change, and wastouched by it.

On the morrow, Mr. Power's note came, and Christie fled upstairswhile it was read and discussed.

"If I get through this parting without disgracing myself, I don'tcare what happens to me afterward," she said; and, in order that shemight do so, she assumed a cheerful air, and determined to departwith all the honors of war, if she died in the attempt.

So, when Mrs. Sterling called her down, she went humming into theparlor, smiled as she read the note silently given her, and thensaid with an effort greater than any she had ever made in her mostarduous part on the stage:

"Yes, I did say to Mr. Power that I thought I'd better be moving on.I'm a restless creature as you know; and, now that you don't needme, I've a fancy to see more of the world. If you want me back againin the spring, I'll come."

"I shall want thee, my dear, but will not say a word to keep theenow, for thee does need a change, and Mr. Power can give thee workbetter suited to thy taste than any here. We shall see theesometimes, and spring will make thee long for the flowers, I hope,"was Mrs. Sterling's answer, as Christie gave back the note at theend of her difficult speech.

"Don't think me ungrateful. I have been very happy here, and nevershall forget how motherly kind you have been to me. You will believethis and love me still, though I go away and leave you for a littlewhile?" prayed Christie, with a face full of treacherous emotion.

Mrs. Sterling laid her hand on Christie's head, as she knelt downimpulsively before her, and with a soft solemnity that made thewords both an assurance and a blessing, she said:

"I believe and love and honor thee, my child. My heart warmed tothee from the first: it has taken thee to itself now; and nothingcan ever come between us, unless thee wills it. Remember that, andgo in peace with an old friend's thanks, and good wishes in returnfor faithful service, which no money can repay."

Christie laid her cheek against that wrinkled one, and, for amoment, was held close to that peaceful old heart which felt sotenderly for her, yet never wounded her by a word of pity.Infinitely comforting was that little instant of time, when thevenerable woman consoled the young one with a touch, andstrengthened her by the mute eloquence of sympathy.

This made the hardest task of all easier to perform; and, when Davidmet her in the evening, Christie was ready to play out her part,feeling that Mrs. Sterling would help her, if need be. But Davidtook it very quietly; at least, he showed no very poignant regret ather departure, though he lamented it, and hoped it would not be avery long absence. This wounded Christie terribly; for all of asudden a barrier seemed to rise between them, and the oldfriendliness grew chilled.

"He thinks I am ungrateful, and is offended," she said to herself."Well, I can bear coldness better than kindness now, and it willmake it easier to go."

Kitty was pleased at the prospect of reigning alone, and did notdisguise her satisfaction; so Christie's last day was any thing butpleasant. Mr. Power would send for her on the morrow, and she busiedherself in packing her own possessions, setting every thing inorder, and making various little arrangements for Mrs. Sterling'scomfort, as Kitty was a heedless creature; willing enough, but veryforgetful. In the evening some neighbors came in; so that dangeroustime was safely passed, and Christie escaped to her own room withher usual quiet good-night all round.

"We won't have any sentimental demonstrations; no wailing, or tenderadieux. If I'm weak enough to break my heart, no one need knowit, - least of all, that little fool," thought Christie, grimly, asshe burnt up several long-cherished relics of her love.

She was up early, and went about her usual work with the sadpleasure with which one performs a task for the last time. Lazylittle Kitty never appeared till the bell rang; and Christie wasfond of that early hour, busy though it was, for David was alwaysbefore her with blazing fires; and, while she got breakfast, he cameand went with wood and water, milk and marketing; often stopping totalk, and always in his happiest mood.

The first snow-fall had made the world wonderfully lovely thatmorning; and Christie stood at the window admiring the bridal lookof the earth, as it lay dazzlingly white in the early sunshine. Thelittle parlor was fresh and clean, with no speck of dust anywhere;the fire burned on the bright andirons; the flowers were rejoicingin their morning bath; and the table was set out with dainty care.So homelike, so pleasant, so very dear to her, that Christie yearnedto stay, yet dared not, and had barely time to steady face andvoice, when David came in with the little posies he always had readyfor his mother and Christie at breakfast time. Only a flower bytheir plates; but it meant much to them: for, in these lives ofours, tender little acts do more to bind hearts together than great,deeds or heroic words; since the first are like the dear daily breadthat none can live without; the latter but occasional feasts,beautiful and memorable, but not possible to all.

This morning David laid a sprig of sweet-scented balm at hismother's place, two or three rosy daisies at Kitty's, and a bunch ofChristie's favorite violets at hers. She smiled as her eye went fromthe scentless daisies, so pertly pretty, to her own posy full ofperfume, and the half sad, half sweet associations that haunt theseblue-eyed flowers.

"I wanted pansies for you, but not one would bloom; so I did thenext best, since you don't like roses," said David, as Christiestood looking at the violets with a thoughtful face, for somethingin the peculiarly graceful arrangement of the heart-shaped leavesrecalled another nosegay to her mind.

"I like these very much, because they came to me in the beginning ofthis, the happiest year of my life;" and scarcely knowing why,except that it was very sweet to talk with David in the earlysunshine, she told about the flowers some one had given her atchurch. As she finished she looked up at him; and, though his facewas perfectly grave, his eyes laughed, and with a sudden convictionof the truth, Christie exclaimed!

"David, I do believe it was you!"

"I couldn't help it: you seemed so touched and troubled. I longed tospeak to you, but didn't dare, so dropped the flowers and got awayas fast as possible. Did you think it very rude?"

"I thought it the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. That wasmy first step along a road that you have strewn with flowers eversince. I can't thank you, but I never shall forget it." Christiespoke out fervently, and for an instant her heart shone in her face.Then she checked herself, and, fearing she had said too much, fellto slicing bread with an energetic rapidity which resulted in a cutfinger. Dropping the knife, she tried to get her handkerchief, butthe blood flowed fast, and the pain of a deep gash made her a littlefaint. David sprung to help her, tied up the wound, put her in thebig chair, held water to her lips, and bathed her temples with a wetnapkin; silently, but so tenderly, that it was almost too much forpoor Christie.

For one happy moment her head lay on his arm, and his hand brushedback her hair with a touch that was a caress: she heard his heartbeat fast with anxiety; felt his breath on her cheek, and wishedthat she might die then and there, though a bread-knife was not aromantic weapon, nor a cut finger as interesting as a broken heart.Kitty's voice made her start up, and the blissful vision of life,with David in the little house alone, van ished like a brightbubble, leaving the hard reality to be lived out with nothing but awoman's pride to conceal a woman's most passionate pain.

"It's nothing: I'm all right now. Don't say any thing to worry yourmother; I'll put on a bit of court-plaster, and no one will be thewiser," she said, hastily removing all traces of the accident buther own pale face.

"ONE HAPPY MOMENT."

"Poor Christie, it's hard that you should go away with a wound likethis on the hand that has done so much for us," said David, as hecarefully adjusted the black strip on that forefinger, roughened bymany stitches set for him.

"I loved to do it," was all Christie trusted herself to say.

"I know you did; and in your own words I can only answer: 'I don'tknow how to thank you, but I never shall forget it.'" And Davidkissed the wounded hand as gratefully and reverently as if its palmwas not hardened by the humblest tasks.

If he had only known - ah, if he had only known! - how easily he mightrepay that debt, and heal the deeper wound in Christie's heart. Asit was, she could only say, "You are too kind," and begin to shoveltea into the pot, as Kitty came in, as rosy and fresh as the daisiesshe put in her hair.

"Ain't they becoming?" she asked, turning to David for admiration.

"No, thank you," he answered absently, looking out over her head, ashe stood upon the rug in the attitude which the best men will assumein the bosoms of their families.

Kitty looked offended, and turned to the mirror for comfort; whileChristie went on shovelling tea, quite unconscious what she wasabout till David said gravely:

"Won't that be rather strong?"

"How stupid of me! I always forget that Kitty does not drink tea,"and Christie rectified her mistake with all speed.

Kitty laughed, and said in her pert little way:

"Getting up early don't seem to agree with either of you thismorning: I wonder what you've been doing?"

"Your work. Suppose you bring in the kettle: Christie has hurt herhand."

David spoke quietly; but Kitty looked as much surprised as if he hadboxed her ears, for he had never used that tone to her before. Shemeekly obeyed; and David added with a smile to Christie:

"Mother is coming down, and you'll have to get more color into yourchecks if you mean to hide your accident from her."

"That is easily done;" and Christie rubbed her pale cheeks till theyrivalled Kitty's in their bloom.

"How well you women know how to conceal your wounds," said David,half to himself.

"It is an invaluable accomplishment for us sometimes: you forgetthat I have been an actress," answered Christie, with a bitter sortof smile.

"I wish I could forget what I have been!" muttered David, turninghis back to her and kicking a log that had rolled out of place.

In came Mrs. Sterling, and every one brightened up to meet her.Kitty was silent, and wore an injured air which nobody minded;Christie was very lively; and David did his best to help her throughthat last meal, which was a hard one to three out of the four.

At noon a carriage came for Christie, and she said good-by, as shehad drilled herself to say it, cheerfully and steadily.

"It is only for a time, else I couldn't let thee go, my dear," saidMrs. Sterling, with a close embrace.

"I shall see you at church, and Tuesday evenings, even if you don'tfind time to come to us, so I shall not say good-by at all;" andDavid shook hands warmly, as he put her into the carriage.

"I'll invite you to my wedding when I make up my mind," said Kitty,with feminine malice; for in her eyes Christie was an old maid whodoubtless envied her her "lots of lovers."

"I hope you will be very happy. In the mean time try to save dearMrs. Sterling all you can, and let her make you worthy a goodhusband," was Christie's answer to a speech she was too noble toresent by a sharp word, or even a contemptuous look.

Then she drove away, smiling and waving her hand to the old lady ather window; but the last thing she saw as she left the well-belovedlane, was David going slowly up the path, with Kitty close besidehim, talking busily. If she had heard the short dialogue betweenthem, the sight would have been less bitter, for Kitty said:

"She's dreadful good; but I'm glad she's gone: ain't you?"

"No."

"Had you rather have her here than me?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you ask her to come back."

"I would if I could!"

"I never did see any thing like it; every one is so queer and crossto-day I get snubbed all round. If folks ain't good to me, I'll goand marry Miles! I declare I will."

"You'd better," and with that David left her frowning and pouting inthe porch, and went to shovelling snow with unusual vigor.