as years ago now), "he is a good son, and kind to his mother."

"Well, well, I am glad to hear it. But surely we have some more
interesting subject to discuss than Reginald Gower."

Mrs. Willoughby sighed. Well she knew that many a time she had a
conflict in her own heart to think well of the lad who was to succeed to
the beautiful estates that by right belonged to their own child.

Dinner over, she sought the quiet of her own boudoir, a room specially
endeared to her by the many sweet memories of the hours that she and her
loved daughter had spent together there.

The day had been a trying one to Mrs. Willoughby. Not often nowadays had
they parties at Harcourt Manor, and she was tired in mind and body, and
glad to be a few minutes alone with her God. She sat for a few minutes
lost in thought; then rising she opened a drawer, and took from it the
case which contained the miniature of a beautiful girl, on which she
gazed long and lovingly. The likeness was that of the daughter she had
loved so dearly, and of whose very existence she was now in doubt. Oh to
see or hear of her once more! Poor mother, how her heart yearned for her
loved one! Only one could comfort her, and that was the God she had
learned to love. She put down the picture and opened a little brown
book, the very _fac-simile_ of the one which little Frida possessed, and
which God had used and blessed in the Black Forest. Turning to the
Hundred and third Psalm, she read the words, well underlined, "Like as a
father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him."
Then turning to the Gospel of Matthew, she read Christ's own blessed
word of invitation and promise, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and
are heavy laden, and _I_ will give you rest." Ah, how many weary,
burdened souls have these words helped since they were spoken and then
under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost written for the comfort of weary
ones in all ages! Ere she closed the book, Mrs. Willoughby read the
fourth verse of the Thirty-seventh Psalm: "Delight thyself in the Lord,
and he shall give thee the desire of thine heart." Then kneeling down
she poured out, as she so often did, the sorrows of her heart to her
heavenly Father, and rose quieted in spirit.

Ere she put away the little brown book she looked at it thoughtfully,
recalling the day, not long before her daughter had left her, when they
had together bought two Bibles exactly alike as regarded binding, but
the one w