“As to the duty of studying the Bible for ourselves—­we have the master’s own command, ‘Search the Scriptures,’ which settles the question at once for all his obedient disciples.  And no one who sets himself to the work humbly and teachably, looking to the Holy Spirit for enlightenment, will fail to find the path to heaven.  ’The way-faring men, though fools shall not err therein.’  Jesus said ’The Comforter which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things.’

“And, my child, none of us is responsible for the interpretation that his neighbor puts upon God’s word,—­his letter addressed to us all; each of us must give account of himself to God.”

Violet’s doubts and perplexities had vanished like morning mist before the rising sun; her natural gayety of spirits returned, and she became again as was her wont, the sunshine of the house, full of life and hope, with a cheery word and sunny smile for every one, from Mr. Daly down to Rosie, and from Aunt Chloe to the youngest child at the quarter.

She had not been so happy since the departure of her parents.

Eddie, Molly and the younger ones, reflected in some measure her bright hopefulness, and the renewed ardor with which she pursued her studies, and for some days all went on prosperously at Ion.

Then came a change.

One evening, Vi, having seen Rosie in bed, and bade Harold and Herbert good-night also, returned to the schoolroom, where Eddie and their cousin were busied with their preparations for the morrow’s recitations.

She had settled herself before her desk, and was taking out her books, when the sound of horses’ hoofs coming swiftly up the avenue, caused her to spring up and run to the window.

“It is grandpa,” she said.  “He seldom comes so late, oh, Eddie!” and she dropped into a chair, her heart beating wildly.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Eddie said, rising and coming toward her, his own voice trembling with apprehension, “it may be good news again.”

“Oh, do you think so?  Can it be?” she asked.

“Surely, Vi, uncle would come as fast as possible if he had good news to bring,” said Molly.  “Perhaps it is that they are coming home; it is getting so late in the fall now, that I’m expecting every day to hear that.”

“Let’s go down to grandpa,” said Vi, rising, while a faint color stole into her cheek, which had grown very pale at the thought that the little pet sister might be dead or dying.  “No, no,” as a step was heard on the stairs, “he is coming to us.”

The door opened, and Mr. Dinsmore entered.  One look into his grief-stricken face, and Violet threw herself into his arms, and wept upon his breast.

He soothed her with silent caresses; his heart almost too full for speech; but at length, “It is not the worst,” he said in low, moved tones, “she lives, but has had a relapse, and they are bringing her home.”