self. She would do good, but she knew
not how. She heard a hungry world crying at her feet, but she had not
the bread they craved. Poor, blinded bird, beating against the bars of
heaven! Clarence never seemed to understand her in those moods: he had
no sympathy with them. Alas, he had never known Beth Woodburn; he had
understood her intellectual nature, but he had never sounded the depths
of her womanly soul. He did not know she had a heart large enough to
embrace the whole world, when once it was opened. Poor, weak, blinded
Clarence! She was as much stronger than he, as the star is greater than
the moth that flutters towards it.

CHAPTER VII.

_ENDED._

June was almost over, and Beth had been home a full month on that long
four months' vacation that university students are privileged to enjoy.
She was very ambitious when she came home that first vacation. She had
conceived a fresh ideal of womanhood, a woman not only brilliantly
educated and accomplished, but also a gentle queen of the home, one who
thoroughly understood the work of her home. Clarence was quite pleased
when she began to extol cooking as an art, and Dr. Woodburn looked
through the open kitchen-door with a smile at his daughter hidden behind
a clean white apron and absorbed in the mysteries of the pastry board.
Aunt Prudence was a little astonished, but she never would approve of
Beth's way of doing things--"didn't see the sense of a note-book and
lead-pencil." But Beth knew what she was doing in that respect.

Then there were so many books that Beth intended to read in that
vacation! Marie had come to the Mayfair's, too, and helped her to pass
some pleasant hours. But there was something else that was holding
Beth's attention. It was Saturday evening, and that story was almost
finished, that story on which she had built so many hopes. She sat in
her room with the great pile of written sheets before her, almost
finished; but her head was weary, and she did not feel equal to writing
the closing scene that night. She wanted it to be the most touching
scene of all, and so it had to be rolled up for another week. Just then
the door-bell rang and Mrs. Ashley was announced, our old friend Edith
Mayfair, the same sweet, fair girl under another name.

They sat down by the window and had a long chat.

"Have you seen the new minister and his wife yet?" asked Edith.

"No; I heard he was going to preach to-morrow."

The Rev. Mr. Perth, as the new M