Not that Mala was absent.

The twain discoursed with

me, at some length; but I have given so faithful a report of the circumstances which formed the text of their discourse, that its tenor is easily divined. And I confess that I am in haste to have done with the subject. Turn it which way I will, I find no comfort in it: it leaves me with a heavy weight of self-dissatisfaction, and (as a natural consequence) of dissatisfaction with everybody else.

XXIX.

AN AFTERNOON AT THE SEWING SOCIETY.

HAVE been thinking, Francesca, how oddly Life often leads us to the very point we meant to shun. He who enters upon any path, aiming at whatever goal, foresees little of the way by which it will lead him. I did not imagine that la grande passion would get into this sober chronicle; to say truth, I had a set purpose of

keeping it out. Yet there it is, in spite of me. And its right to its place is all the more indefeasible, doubtless, for the reason that I cannot now discover (and never may, this side of the veil) what is its special business there. In real life, events do not arrange themselves with the unity, the continuity, the steadily unfolding plot, of the critic's pet novel. Half the scenes and characters with which our days are filled might be spared, we are wont to think, without affecting the result. Possibly they might, if God's purpose in them were the bringing about of certain marked events, rather than the training of immortal spirits. The good or evil work they do, in tempting, restraining, developing, and disciplining us, is none the less real that it often passes for a void in our experience.

And yet, it would seem that we ought to recognize God's hand even more certainly in these scattered, inconsequential events-starting up in our path unexpected and undesired -than in those which are the more legitimate offspring of

our own efforts, and work harmoniously into our plans. The eye of faith, methinks, studying them carefully, would catch a hint here, a clue there, to show that His purpose was shut within, if it did not shine through them; and would be made plain to our sight, and beautiful and just to our comprehension, in the great Day of Revealing.

To be frank, however, I made my visit to Bryer Farm the subject of no such study, to no such comfortable end. Its only present fruits were mortification and regret. And on the morrow I woke as from a long, involved, oppressive dream. The events and personages that had stood out in such bold relief from the surface of the two preceding days, now assumed so vision-like a consistency as to seem undeserving of serious consideration. Most gladly I turned my back on them. Life settled to its usual flow, and seemed not more monotonous than was morally wholesome.

In the afternoon the Sewing Society had its weekly meeting. To my surprise, I found Carrie Thorne there. The surprise was, by no means, a pleasurable one. It showed that my late adventure was not all a dream; and it afforded fresh evidence of Mrs. Thorne's determined and pertinacious character. She would leave no channel untried by which her daughter might find a way into my affections, or, at least, into my interests. Yet Carrie herself was so plainly guiltless of any ulterior design that it was impossible to be unkind to her, even with the vision of her mother looming in the background. She brightened up at sight of me as if I had been the sunshine of her existence, and immediately came to put herself under my orders. She seemed to have come hither with the single object of keeping near me and constituting herself my slave; led by that simple, enthusiastic admiration, akin to worship, and beautiful because so disinterested, which a young girl often cherishes for a woman a little older than herself.

use,

In response to her entreaty that she might be made of
I led her to the work-table. "Take your choice of

patchwork and plain-sewing; or, if you have any gift or grace at fancy-work, set yourself about some 'airy nothing' or other, for Mrs. Danforth's fair."

"Mrs. Danforth's fair!" repeated that lady, suddenly flashing all her diamonds before my eyes, "I should just like to know when that name was given, and who stood sponsor!"

"Impossible to tell. It is like a hundred other things current in the community,-everywhere received, and nowhere acknowledged. Easier to find the source of the Nile than theirs. Never mind; the name fits, does it not?" "Fits like a duck's egg in a hen's nest!" "The simile does you credit. did not actually originate with you, you have so kindly adopted it, and kept it warm, that I really think no one is so fairly entitled to the honor of its paternity."

For, if the idea of the fair

"All right!" replied she, good-humoredly. "It can pass for 'Mrs. Danforth's fair' till it brings a hundred dollars, or two, into the treasury; then, see how quick it will become the child of the regiment,'-that is to say, of the Society!"

"Likely enough," I rejoined, laughing. "Only, Mrs. Danforth, I promise you that you shall wear your honors undivided, so far as I am concerned." And I attempted to

move on.

"Not so fast!" she exclaimed, catching me by the arm. "There is a twang in your voice that does not escape my observation. Have you anything against my fair?"

"No, since it is not mine."

"Well, if it were yours."

"The supposition is not to be entertained, for a moment."

"Why not?" she urged.

"Because Miss Essie is waiting for me to help her about marking that quilt."

She gave me a look of keen scrutiny.

"There is more

than that in the way;-I see it in your eye.

with it!"

Come! out

I drew her aside. "Mrs. Danforth, if you will insist upon making me say what you will not like to hear; at least, let me say it where it will not do you a mischief. Since a fair has been decided upon, by vote of the Society; I am not disposed, by so much as a word or a look, to lay a straw in its way. I will even do what I can for it, in the way of preparation;-I hope never to be classed among those who cannot engage in any work, or forward any end, unless they are allowed to do it just in their own way. Still, if the truth must be told, it is not a work that commends itself very strongly to my sympathies, and not at all to my better judgment. Do not ask me, therefore, to take any active part in its management. I cannot attempt to persuade people that they are giving liberally to God and His Church, when they are only spending money, more or less foolishly, upon their own pleasure. Neither can I convince myself that I am doing God service by selling 'chances—a softer name for lottery tickets."

Mrs. Danforth shrugged her shoulders. "The motive makes the deed," said she.

"Why not the deed the motive, as well? Easy to fit a bad deed with a good motive."

“Murder, for instance!" she returned, with the air of having uttered a poser.

"Certainly. It puts a good man beyond the reach of the sorrows and vicissitudes of earth."

"How, if it's a bad one?"

"It prevents him from adding to the catalogue of his sins, and so increasing his condemnation."

"Goodness gracious! What have you to say for robbery?"

"The robbed has an opportunity to exercise the virtues of patience, forbearance, and self-denial. The robber intends to do good with his money,-to found a hospital or build-or remodel-a church."

X