of her trusting heart greater than before.

It is not to be supposed that Gertrude watched all this with no thought
beyond the little nurserymaid. When she had settled in her own mind
that it was her religion which made Christie so different from most of
the people with whom she had come in contact, she did not fail to bring
into comparison with her life the lives and professions of many who
wished to be considered Christians. This was not the wisest course she
could have taken, but happily she went farther than this. Comparing her
own life and conduct with that of Claude's nurse, she did not fail to
see how far it fell short.

There was nothing very difficult in Christie's daily duties. She had no
opportunities for doing great things, or for bearing great trials. But
seeing her always as she saw her, Gertrude came to feel that the
earnestness, the patience, the self-forgetfulness, with which all her
little duties were done, and all her little disappointments borne, would
have made any life beautiful. And seeing and feeling all this, there
gradually grew out of her admiration a desire to imitate what seemed so
beautiful in the little maid; and many a time when she was disappointed
or angry did the remembrance of her humble friend help her to
self-restraint. With a vague idea that Christie's power came from a
source beyond herself, she groped blindly and only half consciously for
the same help. She studied in secret the Bible that seemed to be so
precious to her, and she prayed earnestly--or she believed she prayed--
to be made wise and strong and self-denying, and in short, did what
might be done to build up a righteousness for herself.

Of course she failed, and then came discouragement and despondency; and
while this mood lasted, all the days in the upper nursery were not happy
ones. For Gertrude, vexed with herself and her failure, grew impatient
and exacting with all the world; and as all the world was not at the
young lady's command, a great deal of her discomfort was visited on
Christie.

As for Christie, she was very patient and forbearing with her, waiting
till her unkind moods were over, not answering her at all, or waiting
and watching for an opportunity to win her from an indulgence of her
spleen. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes her gentleness served to
irritate the wayward girl to sharper words or greater coldness. But
save by silence, or a look of grieved surprise, her unkindness was never