man and his wife were keenly conscious of the miserable life
that Mary led, but they were not in a position to interfere. They had
enough to do with their own griefs.

Mary thought often of going away from Pine Farm, but where to go was
the question. After some consideration she asked the minister's advice.
"My dear Mary," said the old minister, "it is impossible for you to
think of remaining longer at Pine Farm. They expect you to do more than
a strong man could accomplish. Still, I do not advise you to leave
immediately. Although your father gave you an excellent education, and
taught you all that it was necessary for a village housekeeper to know,
my advice would be to remain where you are for the present; to work as
faithfully as you can, and to wait patiently until the Lord delivers
you from your present hard circumstances. I will endeavour to get you a
place in an honest Christian family. Have confidence in God; pray
constantly, bear with this trial, and God will arrange all." Mary
thanked the good old minister and promised to follow his advice.

Mary's favourite place of meditation was her father's tomb, where she
had planted a rose tree. "Alas," said she, "if I could remain here
always, I would water you with my tears!" The rose tree was already
green, and the buds began to open their purple cups. "My father was
right," said Mary, "when he compared human life to the rose tree. It
offers nothing but thorns; but wait a little and the season will come
when it shall be decked anew in foliage and robed in the most beautiful
flowers. For me, this is now the time of thorns; but God help me not to
be cast down! I believe your word, best of fathers. Perhaps I may see
in my life the truth of your favourite maxim--'Patience produces roses.'"
Thus poor Mary consoled herself in her distress.

"Thou art, O Lord, my only trust,
When friends are mingled with the dust,
And all my loves are gone.
When earth has nothing to bestow,
And every flower is dead below,
I look to Thee alone."

CHAPTER XIII.

AGAIN A WANDERER.

The months sped on, and now the anniversary of her father's birthday
arrived. Until then it had always been to Mary a day of great joy, but
this time, when the day dawned, she was bathed in tears. Previously she
had had the pleasure and excitement of preparing something which she
knew would please her father, but now, alas, this delightful occupation
was rendered useless!