The gospel of a life like hers
Is more than books or scrolls.
From scheme and creed the light goes out,
The saintly fact survives;
The blessed Master none can doubt
Revealed in holy lives."
--WHITIER.

The two women, sitting together in the little parlour behind the shop,
seemed to have been drawn to each other by some subtle influence which
neither could explain. When Mrs. Beaton proposed that Elsie should take
off her cloak and stay long enough to drink a cup of tea, the invitation
was accepted at once. And then Elsie told her name, and a little bit of
her own history, before she began to listen to the story of Meta.

"There is a resemblance between your life and hers," Mrs. Beaton said
thoughtfully. "I remember she once told me that she was alone in the
world; parents, brothers, and sisters had all passed away, and the few
relations who remained cared nothing about her. Some artist friend, who
had helped her to get on, recommended Mrs. Penn as a safe woman to live
with. Then, too, that top room was a suitable place to work in; there
was plenty of light and air. One day Mrs. Penn brought her here, and
asked my son to show her some of our art treasures, and that is how we
were acquainted with her first."

"Was she very clever?" Elsie asked.

"I don't know enough of art to answer you; but my son says that she was.
Andrew is a judge in such matters, and I have often heard him say that
Miss Neale had the true gift. But, although she had been well trained,
she lacked a good many of those advantages which help to make artists
successful. She could not afford to travel, and she was so poor that she
was forced to work below her powers. Still, she was rising steadily in
her calling, and increasing her earnings, when she first met Mr.
Waring."

"Mr. Waring? Ah, that was Harold," said Elsie.

"Yes, that was Harold. He was the junior curate at St. Lucy's Church in
a street close by. In that street there was a young girl dying of
consumption who was very lonely, and wanted a good deal of cheering and
visiting. I used to see her as often as I could; but when my rheumatism
cripples me I am helpless. I soon found out that Miss Neale knew how to
comfort the sick, and I asked her to go to the poor girl. She went, and
did more good than I had ever done. And it was in that sick-room that
Mr. Waring first spoke to her."

Elsie recalled the words in the manuscript, "What a new