gathered them round the large pictured Bible, it
was to the Gospel that she turned as she strove to draw their souls to
the appreciation of the Redeeming Love there shown. She saw in Fay's
deep eyes and thoughtful brow that the child was taking it in, though
differently from Amy, who wanted to kiss the picture, while Letty asked
those babyish material questions about Heaven that puzzle wiser heads
than Aurelia's to answer.

So full was she of the thought, that she forgot her sense of something
strange and unaccountable in Mr. Belamour's manner before the evening,
nor was there anything to remind her of it afresh, for he was as calmly
grave and kindly courteous as ever; and he soon led her to pour forth
all her impressions of the day. Indeed she repeated to him great part of
the sermon, with a voice quivering with earnestness and emotion. He
was not stirred in the same way as she had been, saying in his pensive
meditative way, "The preacher is right. Love is life. The misfortune is
when we stake our all on one love alone, and that melts from us. Then
indeed there is death--living death!"

"But there is never-failing love, and new life that never dies!" cried
Aurelia, almost transported out of herself.

"May you ever keep hold of both unobscured, my sweet child," he
returned, with a sadness that repressed and drove her back into herself
again, feeling far too childish and unworthy to help him to that
new life and love; though her young heart yearned over him in his
desolation, and her soul was full of supplication for him.

CHAPTER XIV. THE CANON OF WINDSOR.

Turn, gentle hermit of the dale.--GOLDSMITH.

"My child, will you do me a favour?" said Mr. Belamour the next evening,
in a tone no longer formal, but paternal. "Take this packet" (he put
one into the girl's hand) "to the light and inform me what is the
superscription."

It was a thick letter, with a large red wax seal, bearing the well known
arms of Belamour and Delavie, and the address was

To AMYAS BELAMOUR, ESQ., K.C.,

OF THE INNER TEMPLE, LONDON.
To be opened after my death.]

JOVIAN BELAMOUR.
Dec. 14th, 1727.

"I thought so," said Mr. Belamour, when she returned to him with
intelligence. "Little did my poor brother guess how long it would be
unopened! Will my gentle friend confer another obligation on me?"

Aurelia made her ready a