ave.'

Louis almost smiled. 'Poor comfort that,' he said, 'even if it were
true; but oh, father!' and there was a light in his eye, 'I had thought
of 'He hath blotted out like a cloud thy transgressions.''

'That is right. One like you must find comfort in thinking.'

'There is comfort ineffable,' said Louis; 'but if I knew what I may
dare to take home to myself! It is all so dim and confused. This pain
will not let anything come connectedly. Would you give me that little
manuscript book!'

It was given; and as the many loose leaves fell under Louis's weak
hand, his father was amazed at the mass of copies of prayers, texts,
and meditations that he had brought together; the earlier pages
containing childish prayers written in Aunt Catharine's hand. Louis's
cheeks coloured at the revelation of his hidden life, as his father put
them together for him.

'It is of no use,' he said, sadly; 'I cannot read. Perhaps my aunt
would come and read this to me.'

'Let me,' said his father; and Louis looked pleased.

Lord Ormersfield read what was pointed out. To him it was a glimpse of
a very new world of contrition, faith, hope, and prayer; but he saw the
uneasy expression on Louis's face give place to serenity, as one
already at home in that sphere.

'Thank you,' he said. 'That was what I wanted. Mr. Holdsworth will
soon come, and then I don't want to say much more. Only don't take
this too much to heart--I am not worth it; and but for you and the dear
Terrace home, I can be very glad. If I may hope, the hope is so
bright! Here there are so many ways of going wrong, and all I do
always fails; and yet I always tried to do Him service. Oh, to have
all perfect!--no failure--no inconsistency--no self! Can it be?'

'I always tried to do Him service!' Sadly and dejectedly as the words
were spoken--mournful as was the contrast between the will and the
result, this was the true cause that there was peace with Louis.
Unstable, negligent, impetuous, and weak as he had been, the one
earnest purpose had been his, guarding the heart, though not yet
controlling the judgment. His soul was awake to the unseen, and thus
the sense of the reality of bliss ineffable, and power to take comfort
in the one great Sacrifice, came with no novelty nor strangeness. It
was a more solemn, more painful preparation, but such as he had
habitually made, only now it was for a more perfect Festival.

His father, as much awestruck by his hop