of his misery
and death, all for the sake of one fading, worthless flower!"

"Don't call it worthless, Master James; 'twas God's creature, and very
beautiful while it lasted; and you can't call a thing worthless that
gave a human being as much pleasure as that rose gave poor Jacob. But
whatever it was, it will make no hindrance to Jacob meeting you in
heaven,--ay, and welcoming you there, too. If you reach that happy
place, I'll be bound Jacob will meet you with a smile, and will welcome
you with a song into the happy land."

"Well, 'tis hard to understand," said James Courtenay.

"Yes, yes, Master James, hard to our poor natures, but easy to those who
are quite like their Saviour, as Jacob is now. When He was upon earth he
taught his followers to forgive, and to love their enemies, and to do
good to such as used them despitefully; and we may be sure that, now
they are with him, and are made like him, they carry out all he would
have them do, and they are all he would have them be. I don't believe
that there is one in heaven that would be more glad to see you, Master
James, than my poor boy,--if I may call him my poor boy, seeing he's now
in glory."

Many were the conversations of this kind which passed between old
Leonard and the young squire, and gradually the latter obtained more
peace in his mind. True, he could never divest himself of the awful
thought that he had been the immediate cause of his humble neighbour's
death; but he dwelt very much upon that word "all," and Aggie repeated
old Leonard's lessons, and by degrees he was able to lay even his great
trouble upon his Saviour.

But all that James Courtenay had gone through had told fearfully upon
his health. His long and severe illness, followed by so much mental
anxiety and trouble, laid in him the seeds of consumption. His friends,
who watched him anxiously, saw that as weeks rolled on he gained no
strength, and at length it was solemnly announced by the physician that
he was in consumption. There were symptoms which made it likely that the
disease would assume a very rapid form. And so it did. The young squire
began to waste almost visibly before the eyes of those around, and it
soon became evident, not only that his days were numbered, but that they
must be very few. And so they were. Three weeks saw the little invalid
laid upon his bed, with no prospect of rising from it again. At his own
earnest request he was told what his condition really was; and w