ations. The free gift of grace with which GOD perfects
our efforts may come in many ways, but I am convinced that it is the
common experience of Christians that it does come."

"To every one, do you think?" said I. "I've no doubt it comes to you,
Aunt Isobel, but then you are so good."

"For pity's sake don't say I am good," said my aunt, and she kicked
down all the fire-irons; and then begged my pardon, and picked them up
again.

We were silent for awhile. Aunt Isobel sat upright with her hands
folded in her lap, and that look which her large eyes wear when she is
trying to see all the sides of a question. They were dilated with a
sorrowful earnestness when she spoke again.

"There _may_ be some souls," she said, "whose brave and bitter lot it
is to conquer comfortless. Perhaps some terrible inheritance of strong
sin from the father is visited upon the son, and, only able to keep
his purpose pure, he falls as fast as he struggles up, and still
struggling falls again. Soft moments of peace with GOD and
man may never come to him. He may feel himself viler than a thousand
trumpery souls who could not have borne his trials for a day. Child,
for you and for me is reserved no such cross and no such crown as
theirs who falling still fight, and fighting fall, with their faces
Zionwards, into the arms of the Everlasting Father. 'As one whom his
mother comforteth' shall be the healing of _their_ wounds."

There was a brisk knock at the door, and Philip burst in.

"Look here, Isobel, if you mean to be late for confirmation-class I'm
not going to wait for you. I hate sneaking in with the benches all
full, and old Bartram blinking and keeping your place in the catechism
for you with his fat forefinger."

"I am _very_ sorry, Philip dear," said I; "please go without me, and
I'll come on as quickly as I can. Thank you very much for coming to
remind me."

"There's no such awful hurry," said Philip in a mollified tone; "I'll
wait for you down-stairs."

Which he did, whistling.

Aunt Isobel and I are not demonstrative, it does not suit us. She took
hold of my arms, and I laid my head on her shoulder.

"Aunt Isobel, GOD help me, I will fight on to the very end."

"HE _will_ help you," said Aunt Isobel.

I could not look at her face and doubt it. Oh, my weak soul, never
doubt it more!

CHAPTER V.

CELESTIAL FIRE--I CHOOSE A TEXT.

We were confirmed.

As Aunt Isobel had said, I was spared perplexity by the unm