one thing, and never
sing solos. So my temptation to show off would not be like yours with
your exquisite voice. Though I do believe, Winifred," she said
earnestly, "that one might do that some day--sing solos, I mean--with a
sincere heart to the Lord, and not be vain about it. And oh, it would
be so sweet! To praise Him with one's whole heart 'in the great
congregation'--to try and tell about Him!--but, after all, there is no
verse chaste enough and no melody sweet enough to describe Him! Oh,
Winifred, when I see _His wounds_," and Adele covered her eyes as
though, shutting out other things, she could see Him, while her voice
sank to a sob--"it breaks my heart! What a silly girl I have been--and
it was for me!"

Presently she resumed: "When I sang Sunday, I remembered something that
Mr. Bond had said. I was afraid lest some inattention or failure to
just grasp and mean the sentiments I sang might make my worship
unacceptable. But I remembered that in the Tabernacle service after
the priest had done all he could--at the brazen altar, and the laver,
you know, having his heart set right and his conduct cleansed--still
there was provided blood on the horns of the altar of incense beside
which he worshiped. After all he could do he might still need it, I
suppose. So I thought that although my poor service is very imperfect,
and must come far short of what it ought to be, at best, still there
will always be the blood and I shall take refuge in that."

Winifred looked at her friend wonderingly.

"That is very beautiful, Adele," she said. "I am glad to see it."

Adele's words had opened a dim vista of possibility, very precious, and
had suggested arms wherewith to resist any shrinking self-fear or
accusation that might attack her by the way. But though her "gift," as
Mrs. Butterworth and her mother called it, might some day be transmuted
into a true gift of the Spirit, she felt with instinctive spiritual
repugnance that its sphere of use would not be the former theater of
her vanity. Adele might still sing in the chancel the canticles of the
church, but as for her the associations of the choir of Doctor
Schoolman's church were far too unhallowed to admit of a return to
them. To her it was so clear that she wondered a little why Adele and
she should take no nearer ground as to their respective action.

"I suppose," she said aloud with a little perplexity, "that we must
each do what seems right, according to t