CHAPTER XXX. THE SIRE'S BIRTHDAY. "Then kneeling down to heav'n's eternal King, That thus they all shall meet in future days, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear; Together, hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere." THERE was another of the Alleyne circle, whose opening character Ethelda watched with great interest. It was that of her only sister Gertrude. Religion was deepening in her heart, slowly, gradually. It did not find a soil for rapid growth, but yet it spread. It was casting out its fibres, and taking hold of the entire disposition. Gertrude was not aspiring, quiet life was what she loved: in practical, present work, lay her interest. The characteristic of her religion was holding fast, rather than pressing forward-simple faith, rather than ardent aspirations. It was very difficult for her to grasp a new subject, or to enter into a fresh scheme,—but once embraced, it was yet more difficult to give it up. Her heart opened slowly to understand the length, and breadth, and height, and depth of the love of Christ;-it seemed as if its limit of comprehension were narrow, but whatever it received was so digested that it became, one with herself, a part of her inner man. The day before the bridal had been one of unusual excitement and preparation at Alleyne, and Gertrude had gone through the labour of directing much, with apparent little effort of feeling. A stranger would have thought that she was among the least concerned of the household. Shortly before the hour for evening prayer, Ethelda missed Gertrude from the family circle. It was a clear, bright, summer even ing, heaven still reflecting the rays of sunlight which earth had lost. Ethie longed to be free from the constraint of drawing-room conversation, and was pleased to step unobserved upon the lawn, and wandering past the flower-beds, to pass under the branches of elm and chestnut-trees to an old arbour, not far from the high wall that surrounded the kitchen-garden. No one liked that arbour but Gerty; she had appropriated it when a child, had held her juvenile parties there, and now that she was older grown, used, during the few months of the year that it was not green with damp, to place a basket of flowers on its little table, and to sit with her book or work in its snuggest corner. That night was cool and pleasant, and the table was covered with broken leaves and flowers, for Gertrude had been very busy arrang ing various bridal bouquets. When Ethelda passed the woodbine screen, she saw her that table. sister resting her weary head upon that table. Gertrude looked up as Ethelda approached; her eyes were red with weeping. The sisters sat down together, and passed their arms round each other's waist. "Gerty, darling, you are not breaking down?" "Oh, no, Ethie. I never meant you to have found me out this way but I someway feel Alleyne will not be like itself when you are gone. You know, I never can be like you." "God has not made us to be like one another in disposition, Gerty; and yet one may be as useful, as devoted to His service, as the other. Yonder oak, and ash, and elm, are all different, but each has its separate use and separate beauty." "But I know, Ethie, people don't like me as they like you. I am not half so agreeable, nor half so good." "I don't at all agree with you, little Gerty," said Ethelda, smiling; "but supposing the first part of your imagination were real, it does not prove that the latter is so. Don't you know, that our poor little oaks, so different from the south-country ones, have, after all, a much finer grain of wood? Slow growth is generally the surest. Depend upon it, God has given us each that disposition which, if rightly trained, will best accomplish an appointed mission. He has a variety of work and a variety of tools. He knows what kind He needs; sometimes it is the earnest, active temperament; sometimes the gentle, passive disposition; and at other times the steady, persevering continuance in welldoing." "Then I must be contented as I am. I never should have wished to be anything but quiet little Gerty, were it not that I know how sadly I shall supply your place." "Love everybody, Gerty; think the best of every one; cultivate thoughtful love. And remember that, though natural disposition may remain until the end of life, it becomes sanctified in the Christian. The tree is the apple still, though the crab has been transformed into the bestflavoured fruit." 'Well, Ethie, I will try. My new sister will, I hope, help me a little. And then there will be both Percy and Rowland; for Rowly will be often over, even though he is determined to live in lodgings in his own district." "And, Gerty, God will help you. No one ever tried, laying hold of the Father's hand, but He was ready to hold them up. We must pray for each other to-night." Gertrude kissed her sister with warm affection, and soon they were again mingled with the bright circle in the drawing-room. The bride adorned for the bridal was ready to leave her apartment, when, according to her wish, her beloved father came once more to kiss his child,—still, in one sense, his own possession. She had spent the early hours of that morning in close communion with her God, and ere she joined the group be low, she longed to receive her father's blessing and poured out prayer. The old man trembled as he kissed his daughter. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and yet she had a calm and almost sorrowful air; and when she saw the tear roll down his aged cheek, her own eyes filled with those of sympathy, and it was with a strong effort that she repressed her emotion. "God bless you, my precious daughter!" said the aged father. May you make another's home happy as you have made your parent's. God bless my Ethelda, with all the blessings of His love. I have not words to pray. Rowly, kneel down with us, and ask the blessing of that Father who shall never die." The breathing of the prayer was very earnest. It afresh cemented hearts with a closeness that no earthly separations could sever. It led thought forward from the ceremonials of earth to the marriage-supper of the Lamb-to the yet more abiding union in the kingdom of heaven. Beside those sacred rails, where Ethie had so oft remembered her Lord in His death, with solemn vows and earnest supplications unto the King of Heaven, Claude Wentworth and Ethelda Alleyne became man and wife. The father's voice faltered as he gave away his daughter; but yet he was glad, for he knew it was to him whom she loved. Ethie was calm and composed until they met in the vestry; then, giving way to suppressed feeling, she laid her head on her father's shoulder and wept. Those tears were very pre |