“What next, I wonder?” Ester muttered, as she stooped to scoop up the disordered mass of collars, ruffles, cuffs, laces, and the like, and with them came, face up, and bright, black letters, scorching into her very soul, the little card with its:  “I solemnly agree, as God shall help me.”  Ester paused in her work, and stood upright with a strange beating at her heart.  What did this mean?  Was it merely chance that this sentence had so persistently met her eye all this day, put the card where she would?  And what was the matter with her anyway?  Why should those words have such strange power over her? why had she tried to rid herself of the sight of them?  She read each sentence aloud slowly and carefully.  “Now,” she said decisively, half irritated that she was allowing herself to be hindered, “it is time to put an end to this nonsense.  I am sick and tired of feeling as I have of late—­these are all very reasonable and proper pledges, at least the most of them are.  I believe I’ll adopt this card.  Yes, I will—­that is what has been the trouble with me.  I’ve neglected my duty—­rather I have so much care and work at home, that I haven’t time to attend to it properly—­but here it is different.  It is quite time I commenced right in these things.  To-night, when I come to my room, I will begin.  No, I can not do that either, for Abbie will be with me.  Well, the first opportunity then that I have—­or no—­I’ll stop now, this minute, and read a chapter in the Bible and pray; there is nothing like the present moment for keeping a good resolution.  I like decision in everything—­and, I dare say, Abbie will be very willing to have a quiet talk with Mr. Foster before I come down.”

And sincerely desirous to be at peace with her newly troubled conscience—­and sincerely sure that she was in the right way for securing that peace—­Ester closed and locked her door, and sat herself down by the open window in a thoroughly self-satisfied state of mind, to read the Bible and to pray.

Poor human heart, so utterly unconscious of its own deep sickness—­so willing to plaster over the unhealed wound!  Where should she read?  She was at all times a random reader of the Bible; but now with this new era it was important that there should be a more definite aim in her reading.  She turned the leaves rapidly, eager to find a book which looked inviting for the occasion, and finally seized upon the Gospel of John as entirely proper and appropriate, and industriously commenced:  “’In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  The same was in the beginning with God.’  Now that wretched hair-pin is falling out again, as sure as I live; I don’t see what is the matter with my hair to-day.  I never had so much trouble with it—­’All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.  In him was life:  and the life was the light of men.’—­There are Mr. and Miss Hastings.  I wonder if they are going to call here?  I wish