you from Aberalva, Grace," said
Tom; "you must save a few more poor creatures ere you die, out of
the hands of that Good Being who made little children, and love, and
happiness, and the flowers, and the sunshine, and the fruitful earth;
and who, you say, redeemed them all again, when they were lost, by an
act of love which passes all human dreams."

"Do not talk so!" cried Grace. "It frightens me; it puzzles me, and
makes me miserable. Oh, if you would but become a Christian!"

"And listen to the Gospel?"

"Yes--oh yes!"

"A gospel means good news, I thought. When you have any to tell me, I
will listen. Meanwhile, the news that three out of four of those poor
fellows down town are going to a certain place, seems to me such
terribly bad news, that I can't help fancying that it is not the
Gospel at all; and so get on the best way I can, listening to the good
news about God which this grand old world, and my microscope, and my
books, tell me. No, Grace, I have more good news than that, and I'll
confess it to you."

He paused, and his voice softened.

"Say what the preacher may. He must be a good God who makes such
creatures as you, and sends them into the world to comfort poor
wretches. Follow your own sweet heart, Grace, and torment yourself no
more with these dark dreams!"

"My heart?" cried she, looking down; "it is deceitful and desperately
wicked."

"I wish mine were too, then," said Tom: "but it cannot be, as long as
it is so unlike yours. Now stop, Grace, I want to speak to you."

There was a gate in front of them, leading into the road.

As they came to it, Tom lingered with his hand upon the top bar, that
Grace might stop. She did stop, half-frightened. Why did he call her
Grace?

"I wish to speak to you on one matter, on which I believe I ought to
have spoken long ago."

She looked up at him, surprise in her large eyes: and turned pale as
he went on.

"I ought long ago to have begged your pardon for something rude which
I said to you at your own door. This day has made me quite ashamed
of--"

But she interrupted him, quite wildly, gasping for breath.

"The belt? The belt? Oh, my God! my God! Have you heard anything
more?--anything more?"

"Not a word; but--"

To his astonishment, she heaved a deep sigh, as if relieved from a
sudden fear. His face clouded, and his eyebrows rose. Was she guilty,
then, after all?

With the quick eyes of love, she saw the change; and broke out
passionately