It was strange, in one so young; but, Clemence Graystone never spoke or acted as though she had a long lifetime of usefulness or enjoyment before her.  A feeling, that amounted almost to presentiment, told her that she had not long to wait for the morning that dawneth only upon eternity; and she thought she was content to work and wait until the summons came.  It might have been, in part, owing to the morbid state into which she had fallen, after the death of her parents, and these subsequent severe and long-continued trials of her strength, which was by no means great, but it was only in part.  If there are some of the great heroes upon life’s battle-field, who have had the future faintly foreshadowed to them, just as truly this shrinking, sensitive girl knew that, whatever might come to her now, whether of pleasure or pain, she should be upheld and borne through it, and that a crown, “more to be chosen” than the laurel wreath of a changeful and fickle world, would be her sweet reward; even that “crown of glory, which fadeth not away.”  She knelt down where she had been sitting, and asked God to give her patience and humility for what might come, then walked on comforted, to find Ruth.  The child was waiting for her, and as she came along, slid her little hand confidingly into hers.  Clemence saw that she had been crying, for the great brown eyes were humid, and tears still glittered on the silken lashes.  She stooped and kissed her, but forbore to speak, and together they went into the meeting house.  The congregation were already assembled, and were singing the beautiful hymn which will never grow old or forgotten, commencing, “My faith looks up to thee!” Clemence seated herself, and bowed her head, and the sweet words went down into the sacred recesses of her spirit.  An admirable author has remarked, “there are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.”  And, although Clemence’s lips syllabled no words, her thoughts were those of the most exalted devotion.  She seemed wrapped about in a spell of dreamy silence, and the words of the sermon came faintly to an ear that was all unheeding.  When it was over, and they rose to sing the last hymn, she sat abstractedly, “among them, but not of them.”  It needed the pressure of Ruth’s light hand to rouse her, and she stood up for the benediction.  After it was pronounced, she became conscious, for the first time, that they had been the centre of observation.  A little group immediately collected around them, and there was no end to the staring of those who stood aloof.  Clemence recollected then, that this was her first appearance with Ruth in her new relationship.  She felt a slight embarrassment, as so many eyes regarded her curiously and rudely, but answered pleasantly the many inquiries that were successively made of her.

“Just look at the child!” said Mrs. Wynn, “who would have thought that forlorn little thing could appear so nice and scrumptious.  Let me see.  Is that silk tissue that dress is made of?  Extravagant!”