myself?'

'You will not be left to yourself. God is with you. If I have been able
to give you any comfort, it is because His power and love have been
present with us. But I am very thankful that He has chosen to work
through me. I shall see you again tomorrow--not before evening, for it
will be Sunday, you know; but after the evening lecture I shall be at
liberty. You will be in my prayers till then. In the meantime, dear Mrs.
Dempster, open your heart as much as you can to your mother and Mrs.
Pettifer. Cast away from you the pride that makes us shrink from
acknowledging our weakness to our friends. Ask them to help you in
guarding yourself from the least approach of the sin you most dread.
Deprive yourself as far as possible of the very means and opportunity of
committing it. Every effort of that kind made in humility and dependence
is a prayer. Promise me you will do this.'

'Yes, I promise you. I know I have always been too proud; I could never
bear to speak to any one about myself. I have been proud towards my
mother, even; it has always made me angry when she has seemed to take
notice of my faults.'

'Ah, dear Mrs. Dempster, you will never say again that life is blank, and
that there is nothing to live for, will you? See what work there is to be
done in life, both in our own souls and for others. Surely it matters
little whether we have more or less of this world's comfort in these
short years, when God is training us for the eternal enjoyment of his
love. Keep that great end of life before you, and your troubles here will
seem only the small hardships of a journey. Now I must go.'

Mr. Tryan rose and held out his hand. Janet took it and said, 'God has
been very good to me in sending you to me. I will trust in Him. I will
try to do everything you tell me.'

Blessed influence of one true loving human soul on another! Not
calculable by algebra, not deducible by logic, but mysterious, effectual,
mighty as the hidden process by which the tiny seed is quickened, and
bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and glowing tasseled flower.
Ideas are often poor ghosts; our sun-filled eyes cannot discern them;
they pass athwart us in thin vapour, and cannot make themselves felt. But
sometimes they are made flesh; they breathe upon us with warm breath,
they touch us with soft responsive hands, they look at us with sad
sincere eyes, and speak to us in appealing tones; they are clothed in a
living human soul, with all i