“Mr. Hammond, is he not a very wicked man?”

“He had originally the noblest heart I ever knew, and was as tender in his sympathies as a woman, while he was almost reckless in his munificent charities.  But in his present irreligious state I hear that he has grown bitter and sour and illiberal.  Yet, however repulsive his manner may be, I can not believe that his nature is utterly perverted.  He is dissipated but not unprincipled.  Let him rest, my child, in the hands of his God, who alone can judge him.  We can but pray and hope.  Go on with your lesson.”

The recitation was resumed and ended; but Edna was well aware that for the first time her teacher was inattentive, and the heavy sighs that passed his lips almost unconsciously told her how sorely he was distressed by the erratic course of his quondam pupil.

When she rose to go home she asked the name of the author of the Family Prayers which she wished to purchase for Mrs. Murray, and the pastor’s face flushed with pleasure as he heard of her cherished scheme.

“My dear child, be circumspect, be prudent; above all things, be consistent.  Search your own heart; try to make your life an exposition of your faith; let profession and practice go hand in hand; ask God’s special guidance in the difficult position in which you are placed, and your influence for good in Mrs. Murray’s family may be beyond all computation.”  Laying his hands on her head, he continued tremulously:  “O my God! if it be thy will, make her the instrument of rescuing, ere it be indeed too late.  Help me to teach her aright; and let her pure life atone for all the inconsistencies and wrongs that have well-nigh wrought eternal ruin.”

Turning quickly away, he left the room, before she could even catch a glimpse of his countenance.

The strong and lasting affection that sprang up between instructor and pupil—­the sense of dependence on each other’s society—­rarely occurs among persons in whose ages so great a disparity exists.  Spring and autumn have no affinities—­age has generally no sympathy for the gushing sprightliness, the eager questioning, the rose-hued dreams and aspirations of young people; and youth shrinks chilled and constrained from the austere companionship of those who, with snowy locks gilded by the fading rays of a setting sun, totter down the hill of life, journeying to the dark and silent valley of the shadow of death.

Preferring Mr. Hammond’s society to that of the comparative strangers who visited Mrs. Murray, Edna spent half of her time at the quiet parsonage, and the remainder with her books and music.  That under auspices so favorable her progress was almost unprecedentedly rapid, furnished matter of surprise to no one who was capable of estimating the results of native genius and vigorous application.  Mrs. Murray watched the expansion of her mind, and the development of her beauty, with emotions of pride and pleasure, which, had she analyzed them, would have told her how dear and necessary to her happiness the orphan had become.