as the appetite of the invalid had been delicately consulted.

"The strawberries at Hawthorn must be in perfection now," she sighed, as she took the little fancy basket in her hands, and dallied with its sweets. Too lovely they looked to be disturbed.

"Are you longing to be back to Hawthorn, dear?” asked her mother, in anxious tones.

"It is more like home there," said Lilian; and she said no more. The word "home" had stirred a feeling in her heart, and brought back the echo of the verses her memory had recalled,

"May I but safely reach my home."

Oh! could she only feel towards Heaven as she did towards Hawthorn; if she could only once feel that it was indeed her home!

Mrs. Spencer busied herself in administering wine and arranging the cushions round her child with a lingering, loving touch, tears starting to her eyes at the ravages disease had already made in the loveliness that she had so lately deemed perfect.

"Not a very pleasant prospect without, dear Lily," she presently exclaimed, in a cheerful tone; "those wild clouds, and wilder waves, are gloomy-looking. It is getting dark too. Come, let me wheel you round to the fire; it is cold here;" and she playfully drew the curtains, and pushing the head of the couch it glided easily along to the place assigned it.

Truly, it was a more lively scene: the fire burnt briskly and brightly, a perfect bed of cinders, while bright, sparkling knots of shea oak sent out living jets of gas, and brilliant flames. The soft crimson

glass lamp was just lighted, and diffusing its rich glow through the room, little room as it was, transformed by its furniture and inmates into a very bower of luxury. After all, Lilian thought it looked more pleasant by its contrast to the wild scene without.

Revived a little by her mother's attentions, Lilian, after a time, was able to enjoy the cup of tea and a delicate slice of bread and butter, with a few of her strawberries, prepared for her, and to anticipate with fresh eagerness the arrival of her box. She endeavoured, meanwhile, to keep her impatience as much as she could to herself. She was quite aware there would be a strong opposing force exercised if it was known what she really wanted so much. That she must read by stealth she sorrowfully knew, or else she could easily have sent out to purchase a Bible in the neighbourhood. The difficulties seemed to thicken about her way in her search for truth; but search she must, whatever it cost her.

The evening wore on, and the box did not arrive. The storm, meanwhile, increased, the roar and dash of the waves was distinctly heard within, the wind howled and moaned round the house as though seeking admittance; but that it did not obtain.

A little while before Lilian was carried to her room for the night, however, a knock at the front door, followed by a hasty entrance of footsteps, wind, and rain, aroused the quiet little household. They had given up the thought of any one venturing out in that stormy gale, especially at that late hour; but they had not calculated upon Hugh's power of endurance or anxiety to gratify his sister's desires;

for it was his knock and footstep they heard, and under his convoy was Lilian's precious box.

How she regarded it! how fondly for a moment she put her thin white hands upon it!—but that was all. She had remained up to the utmost limit of her strength, and to look into it that night was impracticable. So she had it carried into her room, and placed at her bedside; and in her wakeful hours, amidst her short fitful dreams, her little Testament, with its golden clasps, was constantly present to her. It now appeared as a mine of undiscovered gold. The morning light was ardently watched for, that the search might commence.

And, meanwhile, how Mrs. Spencer wondered what could be the very precious thing that box contained!

CHAPTER XXV.

HUGH'S DISCOVERY.

"That look of sadness in the languid eye,

Ay, more than sadness: did it not betray
She knew that she was passing from our sight?"

EMILY OWEN had been a week in Adelaide, enjoying the welcome her brother and his wife lavished upon her. They had no children of their own, and therefore little "Rosebud " was petted and cared for with more than tenderness. Evidently they fully entered into the spirit of Tupper's wellknown lines:

“A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure."

The little messengers of "peace and love" had been denied them, though, oh! how earnestly desired none could tell. But their sweet little niece was welcomed none the less fondly, and "a well-spring of pleasure" she verily proved to the whole household while she remained amongst them.

And little "Rosie " grew and thrived, even in Adelaide air; the sweet blue eyes becoming every day more like violet, and the little curly hair softer and fairer.

"She will be a lovely child!" was the continual

exclamation of those who saw her; and her mother's inward prayer was, that she might indeed prove good as well as lovely; might early possess the priceless adornment of a "meek and quiet spirit.”

How different this town-life seemed to Emily after her twelve months' seclusion in the country. Did she like it? She could scarcely say that. At first, while Gilbert was with her, she enjoyed the change very much. It was pleasant to see old friends ; pleasant to visit old haunts. Even the bustle and gaiety of Hindley and Rundle Streets were inviting to her. Her favourite shops too--Platt's, and Rigby's, and Wigg's-with all their literary attractions, she would not have passed them by for anything. It was so delightful to her to see, if a certain restriction in her purse-strings forbade her largely to purchase. She contrived, indeed, to visit all her old favourites: "Kangaroo House," with its delicate fabrics and perfectly-fitting gloves, and "Faulding's," whose exquisite essences and perfumes, and toilet trifles, held equal sway in her mind with drugs and tinctures. Even Cunningham's Bazaar was not forgotten, or "Hill's Fancy Repository." Some little thing she must have from each, to carry back with her into the country as a memento, at any rate, of her old Adelaideian life. Sooth to say, these visits would have been a terrible infliction on our minister's pocket, had not a handsome present from Emily's brother, Mr. Ashley, made up all deficiencies, and spared him the pain of restraining the little extravagancies of his beloved wife-for, after all, they were but little.

66

Before the week had passed away, Gilbert Owen