inst me?"

"I presume not. She is at peace with all mankind, and with her Maker.
The young man has a very independent, self-relying spirit. Probably he
dictated the letter you received."

"Was that before he was engaged to Susan?"

"When did you write her?"

"Immediately after my return to the city."

"They were not engaged then, at least not in form."

"As things now are, would he refuse to receive aid from me?"

"I do not know. Susan can probably tell."

"I must speak with her on the subject."

The next time he was left alone with Susan, he said--

"Susan, my dear daughter, for so I must call you, though you would not
give me leave to do so, I wish to do something for young Larned."

Susan made no reply, except by a crimson blush.

"Pardon me for speaking so abruptly. I have not a great while to stay
with you, and I must say what I have to say directly and without
preface."

"That is the way in which I would have every one speak to me," said
Susan.

"There is nothing which I can do for your welfare and happiness which I
do not desire to do. My property will soon be of no value to me, for I
shall shortly be in my grave. I wish to know if you cannot devise some
way by which I can assist young Larned in his education. Set your wits
to work, and, having succeeded, inform me. I am growing faint, and shall
require assistance to be enabled to reach my room."

Susan called her father, who was at hand, and, supported by them both,
the invalid succeeded in reaching his room. He then fainted quite away.
Susan was greatly alarmed, as she had never before seen one in a state
of temporary insensibility. So perfect an image of death could not be
witnessed for the first time without agitation and even terror. By a
prompt application of remedies, consciousness was soon restored. He was
feeble and dispirited, and Susan remained by his bedside. Unable or
disinclined to engage in conversation, he pointed to the Bible. She read
to him. He listened with interest, and when she paused would request her
to proceed. She read till the shadows of evening rendered it necessary
for her to lay aside the volume.

"There is much there," said he, "that I do not comprehend."

"Is there not much there that you can comprehend, and much that you can
believe, though it transcend your comprehension? Do you find any
difficulty in understanding this assertion, 'God so loved the world that
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever beli