en me a ray of hope--if 'twill not
die away."

Mrs Dorothy drew the girl to her, and kissed her cheek.

"Christ cannot die, my child," she replied. "And Christ's love is
deathless as Himself. `Death hath no more dominion over Him.' And He
saith to His own, `Because I live, ye shall live also.'"

"It should be a better life than this," said Gatty, with a sigh.

"This is not the Christian's life, my dear. `His life is hid with
Christ in God.' 'Tis not left in his own hands to keep; he would soon
lose it, if it were. Farewell, dear child; and may the Lord keep thee!"

Gatty looked up suddenly. "Tell me what to say to Him."

Mrs Dorothy scarcely hesitated a moment.

"`Teach me to do Thy will,'" she answered. "That holds everything. You
cannot do His will unless you are one of His redeemed. He must save
you, and hold you up, and guide you to glory, if you do His will--not
because you do it, for the salvation cometh first; but without the one,
there cannot be the other. And he that doeth the will of God soon
learns to love it, better than any mortal thing. `Oh, how love I Thy
law!' saith David. `There is nothing on earth that I desire in
comparison of Thee.'"

She kissed both the girls again, and they went away.

CHAPTER SIX.

TRAPS LAID FOR RHODA.

"La souveraine habilite consiste a bien connoitre le prix des choses."

_La Rochefoucauld_.

There was an earnest, wistful, far-away look in Gatty's eyes, as though
some treasure-house had been opened to her, the existence of which she
had never previously suspected; but neither she nor Phoebe said a word
to each other as they crossed the Park, and went up the wide white steps
of the Abbey.

"Where on earth have you been, you gadabouts?" came in Rhoda's voice
from the interior of the hall. "Oh, but I've such a jolly piece of news
for you! Molly and me heard it from Madam. Guess what it is."

Rhoda's grammar was more free and easy than correct at all times; and
Phoebe could not help thinking that in that respect, as in others, she
had perceptibly deteriorated by contact with Molly.

"I don't care to hear it, thank you," said Gatty, rather hastily,
walking straight upstairs.

"Oh, don't you, Mrs Prim?" demanded Rhoda. "Well, it doesn't concern
you much. Now, Phoebe, guess!"

Phoebe felt very little in tune for the sort of amusement usually
patronised by Rhoda. But she set herself to gratify that rather
exacting young lady.

"I don'