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sure that is the orphan school at Connemara. I have seen a picture of that before.”
“Yes, dear, it is; do you know anything about the orphans ?”
“Oh yes,” said Minnie, “we love them so
“How long have you loved them ?”
“Ever since we heard of their great trouble, we felt so very sorry for them.”
“Well, dear, they are all the richer for your love, though you may not be able to help them in any other way than by your prayers and good wishes."
“Oh, but we can, and we do,” said Ellen; and then checking herself, as though sorry she had been surprised into this sudden avowal, she added, “It is very little we do, so little that it is almost nothing; but mama says it is the willing mind that makes a gift valuable, and not the amount given.”
“I am sure mama is right, dear; we all know the story of the widow's mite, and what was true then is true now."
“ It was at Miss Marsh's we saw this pic. ture, and she has some others.”
“Who are the Miss Marshes, dear? ! have heard of them before.”
“They are the dearest, kindest people in the world, and they live about a mile and a half from here. One is a great invalid, but so happy and cheerful. They are quite old, and so is their brother, Mr. Marsh; but it is such a pleasure to go there.”
“ Then they are kind to you?”
“Yes, indeed, they are ; I think they are kind to every one. I believe they are going to invite all the children in the parish, rich and poor, next week: they told mama they should. How we shall like it, shan't we, Ellen ?”
“ But now, my dears, your time is up, and mama will be expecting you. To-morrow, at eleven o'clock, I shall look for you with your French exercises nicely done,” and giving their kind preceptress a parting kiss, the little girls withdrew,
It was in the afternoon of the same day that Helen went, commissioned by her aunt, to carry some books to Miss Marsh's house. It was not that the least necessity existed for her doing so, as Mrs. Herbert had servants enough to do her bidding, let it be what it might. She had also ordered the carriage for a drive, and could easily have taken them herself; but it was her pleasure to employ Helen, and to feel that she had power to do so. And there was something in her manner of exacting a service which seemed to change the very nature of the thing. Let it have looked ever so bright before, she had the power of throwing a cloud over it, and making it an irksome duty. She expressed her wish that Effie should drive with her, and Effie had very nearly openly rebelled, for she loved her cousin dearly, and her heart swelled at even the sem, blance of neglect or unkindness to her. But Helen had succeeded in calming down her opposition, and after an outburst of anger against a her aunt, while she was preparing for her
hated drive, she went down stairs with a pro. mise to keep her temper as far as possible.
“As far as possible, Helen, no farther; and I must not sit opposite my aunt, nor look at her once, or I shall break my promise; good-bye,” and with a martyr's face Effie went down into the hall.
Helen soon recovered herself when she was left alone. A few minutes quiet thought, a few silent aspirations to Him who alone can effectually say to the troubled waters of the human heart, "peace, be still," and "there was a great calm.” It was a fine afternoon; she had a beautiful walk before her, and she was sure of a kind welcome at the end; so just waiting till her aunt's carriage was out of the avenue, she put Ryle's little hymn-book into her pocket, and, with a glad heart and light footstep, she set off. She had not walked far when she met Mr. Marsden.
“Oh, Miss Burnet, I wonder whether you will do a little work for me to-day?".
“I will, with pleasure, if I can," said Helen. “I am going to Heathside, but I have the afternoon before me.”
“It is all in your way, then. Will you call and see Mrs. Wood? She ought to be visited, and I have no time to go to her to-day.”
“Oh, yes, I will go. I have seen her before. She is very ill, is she not ?"
“Yes, she is ill and sorrowful, and her outward circumstances are all adverse. She wants comfort, and she wants, as we all do, perpetually reminding where alone to look for it. I will see her in a day or two, and you may tell her so."
Helen pursued her walk, and soon arrived at the cottage to which Mr. Marsden had sent her. It was a low, damp tenement, with no sign of outward comfort. The garden was neglected, the gate hanging upon a broken hinge, a pool of water stood before the door, and a broken pane of glass in the window had its place supplied by a coloured pocket-handkerchief stuffed in. There were no other dwellings near, and the place had a very cheer