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went away; he came back, however
by one of those mysterious but no
tractions, to say gently, "God bles
did her good, and she had done "
kindlier, happier interest had
into the desolate old man's dr
lives had only just toucher
never meet again till the
shall meet once-in the '
Leslie thought that
looked very dreary, t'
ber afternoon; the
surely thicker tha
and though her

villa, yet the '

grass, and stur

rural beauty. sical health

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asy till she uneasy as posmpanion nor guide umour and affectionGreat appreciation of her d her to him. She was always took his part, and with him, so she materially comfort, though hitherto she had appreciate mach towards the peace of the housee unity between husband and wife. had her manner towards her capriaunt been always what it ought to have Philip Gower in that strange, outspoken of his had once said to Leslie that it

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ens." So instead of rest

of Philip's truth and trustied on something very different changes or passes away. Her aunt there was a difference, and began

k that there must be some good in all Woodleigh-Mordaunt Methodism after all. oor woman, she was much to be pitied. She had a craving for love, yet was too proud to sue for it, too unwise to seek to win it. She loved her husband devotedly, though she had alienated his affections by her capricious temper; she had been jealous and cold and hard towards his orphan niece, yet often she had longed to take her into her heart of

Her indignation knew no bounds when her medical man pronounced her malady to be liver complaint. To come down from her interesting pet maladies to anything so vulgar and commonplace was insufferable, so she was cross and capricious, and more difficult than ever to "get on" with. Poor Mr. North was one of those good-tempered men whose highest domestic ambition is to lead an "easy life," while his wife was never easy till she had made everybody else as uneasy as possible. He was neither companion nor guide for Leslie, but his good humour and affectionate disposition, and great appreciation of her merits, had attached her to him. She was lively and amusing, always took his part, and was a great deal with him, so she materially increased his comfort, though hitherto she had not done much towards the peace of the household, or the unity between husband and wife. Neither had her manner towards her capricious aunt been always what it ought to have been. Philip Gower in that strange, outspoken way of his, had once said to Leslie that it

was not becoming a Christian woman, though it might do very well for a high-spirited heathen. Leslie in those days had been proud of her high spirit, yet she was not angry with Philip Gower. Well-a-day, she did not feel proud of anything now; besides, she had a deep growing wish to please her Saviour in all things, and to follow His example, and obey His command, "Bear ye one another's burdens." So instead of resting on thoughts of Philip's truth and trustiness, she rested on something very different that never changes or passes away. Her aunt saw that there was a difference, and began to think that there must be some good in all the Woodleigh-Mordaunt Methodism after all. Poor woman, she was much to be pitied. She had a craving for love, yet was too proud to sue for it, too unwise to seek to win it. She loved her husband devotedly, though she had alienated his affections by her capricious temper; she had been jealous and cold and hard towards his orphan niece, yet often she had longed to take her into her heart of

hearts. Something of all this Leslie had only now found out, her perceptions sharpened and her heart softened by suffering, and it was a help, hope, and comfort to her, in her winter's "home and hearth" work. Yet it was a long winter, a winter Leslie never could forget. No more public news of Philip Gower, not a word, or sign, or private letter, to Aunt Hester, or any one else, unless it had gone down to the fishes and corals, with many a like argosy of comfort and hope.

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So Leslie struggled on through the winter bravely, for she knew

"That wasted shade is worse than wasted sunshine."

Often she wondered whether the grass would ever grow green over that sepulchred trust, which as yet was bleak and bare, and dark and rugged; and then she longed with a sore longing for the time when there shall be no jarred harmony, no broken trust, no graves sere or green, whether dug in the soil of this our planet, or in the waste places of these our hearts.

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