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 [page 51. 
 
MARGARET CRAVEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE LOST KEY," ''THE GOLDEN MUSHROOM," 
 AND THE "LITTLE WATERCRESS SELLERS." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS TEACT SOCIETY; 
 
 Instituted 1799. 
 
 DEPOSITORIES, 56, PATERNOSTER ROW, 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, 
 AND 164, PICCADILLY ; AND SOLD BY THE BOOKSELLERS. 
 
IOAN STAC* 1 
 
MARGARET CRAVEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 
 
 . CHAPTER I. 
 
 NOT many years ago there stood, at a little 
 distance from the dusty high road which 
 passed through a quiet agricultural village 
 in one of the midland counties of England, 
 a pretty-looking house, known, from the 
 circumstance of its having a thatched roof, 
 by the name of "The Thatched Cottage." 
 Over the front, as well as from the rustic 
 porch, hung clematis, roses, and other climb- 
 ing plants. Against one end was trained a 
 large apricot tree, which, every summer 
 might be seen thickly studded with rich 
 golden fruit, while over the other ran a 
 B 3 
 
 005 
 
6 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 grape vine, reaching almost to the top of the 
 tall kitchen chimney, on the sides of which 
 the finest clusters of grapes were always to 
 be found. At the front of the house was 
 the lawn, laid out very prettily, with gravel 
 walks and beds of flowers ; at the back 
 were the small kitchen garden and the 
 poultry yard. 
 
 Such was the home of Mrs. Shirley and 
 her little niece, Margaret Craven. Here it 
 was that Margaret's life had been spent ever 
 since she could remember ; for, though not 
 an orphan, she had never known her parents. 
 They had left England for India when she 
 was very young, leaving her under the care 
 of Mrs. Shirley, who was a widowed sister 
 of Mr. Craven's. They did not then expect 
 that their absence would exceed two or three 
 years, but, from one cause or other, it had 
 been so much extended, that Margaret, 
 though she often talked of them, had from 
 being repeatedly told that they were coming, 
 and being then disappointed, at length almost 
 ceased to expect that she should ever have 
 any other home than the Thatched Cottage. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 7 
 
 Mrs. Shirley had no children of her own, 
 but faithfully did she fulfil a mother's duties 
 towards her brother's child, at the same time 
 lavishing upon her an affection which a 
 mother's love could hardly have surpassed ; 
 and Margaret, in return, loved her with all 
 the warmth and devotion of an affectionate 
 and confiding nature, hidden, though it was, 
 from those who did not know her well, 
 by manners timid, reserved, and retiring. 
 She loved her parents, too, but it was in 
 a different way ; it was as we love those 
 whom we feel we ought to love, but whom 
 we have never seen, and of whom we know 
 but little. Mrs. Shirley herself conducted 
 her education, carefully instilling into her 
 young heart lessons of faith, truth, and 
 holiness, and early leading her to the feet 
 of that Saviour in whom she herself trusted, 
 and whose example it was her own daily 
 endeavour humbly to follow. The more 
 ornamental parts of education were not 
 neglected, but they were esteemed by 
 Mrs. Shirley at their proper value; and, 
 while pursuing them, Margaret was taught 
 
8 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 never to forget that they would adorn her 
 only for a time, while the love and favour 
 of God, which, conscious of her own un- 
 worthiness, she must seek 5 by a true faith 
 in Christ, with constant denial of self, and 
 a daily endeavour, by the aid of the Holy 
 Spirit, to walk in the way of his com- 
 mandments, would be her portion for ever. 
 Thus instructed, it was no wonder that 
 Margaret's was a happy childhood, her home 
 a happy home. She had, it is true, no 
 companions of her own age beyond the 
 few young people who were occasional 
 visitors at Mrs. Shirley's house, but she 
 needed them not, for in her aunt she ever 
 found a ready sharer in all her little sor- 
 rows, a glad companion in all her joys, 
 and she wished for no other. Things had 
 gone on in this way until the time when 
 our story commences, at which period Mar- 
 garet had just entered her eleventh year. 
 
 It was one bright morning in early spring, 
 Mrs. Shirley was preparing breakfast, and 
 Margaret was standing at the window, 
 scattering crumbs for the robins, and re- 
 
BEAL'TY OF THE HEART. 9 
 
 gretting that they were now growing too 
 independent to care for them, when the 
 postman made his appearance, walking 
 quickly up the gravel walk which led to 
 the house. 
 
 "Aunt Ellen," exclaimed Margaret, 
 " there's the postman ; shall I go and get 
 the letter ? " and, without waiting for a 
 reply, she ran to the door, arid quickly 
 returned with a letter in her hand. "It's 
 an Indian letter, aunt Ellen," said she ; " I 
 wonder if there's a little one inside for me." 
 
 But Margaret soon saw that there was not, 
 and that she must consequently be contented 
 to take her news second-hand. She was well 
 accustomed to read her aunt's countenance, 
 and soon saw, by the change in it, ere she 
 had read the first page, that the letter 
 contained some unexpected intelligence. 
 
 " Margaret, rny love," said she, " here is 
 good news for you in this letter, your 
 papa and mamma are coming home at last." 
 
 " Coming home, aunt Ellen ? " exclaimed 
 Margaret, and for some reason, quite un- 
 known to herself, she burst into tears. 
 
10 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " Yes, dear, your papa says that they will 
 be here in a few months ; but why do you 
 weep, Margaret ; you are glad, are you not ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret, " I am glad, at least 
 I think I am ; I ought to be glad, ought I 
 not, aunt Ellen?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, certainly you ought ; you 
 ought to love your papa and mamma better 
 than any one else." 
 
 "Not better than you, aunty dear, ought 
 I ? " said Margaret, twining her arms round 
 her aunt's neck and affectionately kissing her ; 
 " at least, not till I have seen them ; I don't 
 think I cair, aunt Ellen, love them better 
 than I do you." 
 
 "We shall see when they come," said 
 Mrs. Shirley, smiling and kissing her again ; 
 ts at all events, I do not think they will mind 
 your loving me too, though they mean to 
 take you away from me." 
 
 "Take me away from you?" repeated 
 Margaret, " I never thought of that ; could 
 not they and Ada come and live here too ? " 
 
 " I do not think it is very likely that they 
 could, Margaret ; but you are not going yet, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 11 
 
 so we will not talk about it now, we will have 
 our breakfast." 
 
 Margaret obeyed this restriction for a little 
 while, but her thoughts were still busy on 
 the same subject. She noticed too that her 
 aunt had not taken any thing for her break- 
 fast but an occasional sip of coffee. Presently 
 she looked up in the midst of eating her egg, 
 and laying down her spoon said 
 
 " Aunt Ellen, I am afraid I am not so glad 
 as I ought to be." 
 
 "You will be glad by and by, dear 
 Margaret." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I shall, but somehow it 
 seems as if I could not be glad to go away 
 from you, not even to papa and mamma, and 
 Ada. I do like this old house so too, and 
 the garden, and the chickens, and poor old 
 Tiney, and everything else." Then, after a 
 pause, she continued, " I suppose, aunt Ellen, 
 that papa and mamma will have a much finer 
 house than this to live in ? " 
 
 "I should think it most likely, or they 
 will not have a very fine one," replied Mrs,, 
 Shirley, again smiling. 
 
12 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " But fine houses don't make people hap- 
 py," remarked Margaret in a wise tone. 
 
 " Nor do they make them chappy/' replied 
 Mrs. Shirley. "You remember what your 
 little hymn says, Margaret, that 
 
 ' Happiness dwells in the temper within, 
 And not in the outward estate/ " 
 
 "Is mamma like you, aunt Ellen? "was 
 Margaret's next question. 
 
 " No, she is much taller, and when I knew 
 your mamma, Margaret, she was very 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Then I suppose Ada is beautiful too, as 
 she has always lived with mamma." 
 
 " I do not know that that would follow as 
 a matter of course," said Mrs. Shirley, 
 smiling ; " however, once when your papa 
 wrote, I remember that he said Ada was 
 very like your mamma/' 
 
 " I am not at all beautiful, am I, aunt 
 Ellen ? " said Margaret, glancing, as she 
 spoke, at the chimney glass opposite. 
 
 " God has not seen fit to give you any 
 large share of outward beauty, my child," 
 replied Mrs. Shirley; ".but if you strive for 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 13 
 
 it, you may gain a kind of beauty which is of 
 far greater value. Mere beauty of face and 
 form, unless there be love to Christ, with good- 
 ness and virtue within, is as worthless as it is 
 short-lived and deceptive ; but beauty of the 
 heart and mind can make even the plainest 
 face attractive, and will still retain its bloom 
 when outward beauty is faded and gone." 
 
 "Do you think Ada is good, aunt Ellen?" 
 said Margaret. 
 
 "I hope, dear Margaret, she may have 
 learned to love and obey the Lord Jesus; 
 certainly I know of nothing in her to the 
 contrary. I hope that she and you will 
 be sisters in Christ, and in all that is good 
 and excellent, as well as sisters in name." 
 
 "It will be very nice to have a sister 
 certainly, won't it ?" said Margaret. " We can 
 learn our lessons together, and play together, 
 and save up our money to make clothes for 
 the infant school children : yes, all that will 
 be very nice, only I wish Ada could come 
 and live here for you to teach us, aunt Ellen ; 
 don't you think papa and mamma would let 
 her?" 
 
14 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 Mrs. Shirley sighed deeply as she answered 
 that she thought such a thing was not likely. 
 Margaret heard the sigh, but she little 
 suspected its cause. She did not know that 
 at that moment her aunt was taking a glance 
 into the future, and that she sighed as she 
 thought of the many temptations to err from 
 the right path, which she feared might be in 
 store for the child whom she had so long 
 loved and cherished as her own. 
 
 Mrs. Shirley was, as we have said, a sincere 
 Christian, and had endeavoured to bring 
 Margaret up in accordance with the princi- 
 ples by which her own actions were guided. 
 Her brother, though he both loved and ad- 
 mired her for her goodness, differed widely 
 from her on the topics which in her eyes were 
 all-important ; while his wife, unless greatly 
 changed from what she once was, she knew 
 to be a thorough woman of the world, leading 
 a sort of butterfly existence which fashionable 
 life demands, and as unfitted for the task as 
 she was unlikely to make the attempt to lead 
 Margaret onward in the path in which her 
 footsteps had hitherto been directed. She 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 15 
 
 sighed, too, as she thought of the difficult 
 position in which the poor child would be 
 placed, well knowing that many things which 
 she had hitherto been taught to look upon as 
 wrong or even sinful, because they were so 
 in God's sight, would, in her father's house, 
 not only be lightly regarded, but even spoken 
 of with admiration, while the amiabilities and 
 excellencies of her disposition, which she had 
 so carefully nourished and fostered as lovely 
 flowers, hereafter to blossom in beauty and 
 fragrance, would meet with no encourage- 
 ment, but on the contrary would, she feared, 
 soon be suffered either to run waste, or be left 
 to be overgrown with unlovely and hurtful 
 weeds, whose seeds, notwithstanding all the 
 pains she had hitherto taken to destroy them, 
 she well knew still remained within her heart 
 "But it is wrong of me, very wrong," 
 thought she, as she sat thus meditating within 
 herself, " to be thus distrustful of the love 
 and care of my heavenly Father ; cannot he 
 who kept Noah in the midst of an ungodly 
 world, who watched over Daniel, surrounded 
 as he was by all the pomp and splendour of 
 
16 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 a court, keep her, too, safe from harm, and 
 unspotted by the world ? Can he not, will 
 he not, grant her the aid of his Spirit, to keep 
 her back from sin, and to enable her to 
 withstand temptation, in one place as well as 
 in another ? I have, it is true, guided her 
 hitherto, but I have been but the instrument 
 in his hand ; why should I grieve that she is 
 to be taken from me? How can I tell but 
 that it may be for some wise and good end, 
 which I am not yet permitted to see? I will 
 pray for greater faith, and strive to leave her 
 unmurmuringly in his hands to do what 
 scemeth him good," 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Six months had passed away, and now Mar- 
 garet had been folded in the arms of her long 
 absent parents, had received the first kiss of 
 her beautiful sister Ada, and had heard end- 
 less accounts of the new home to which she 
 was soon to go. Mrs. Shirley was busy 
 making preparations for her departure ; as for 
 Margaret, she did not know, as she herself 
 said, whether she felt happy or unhappy, glad 
 or sorry. In the short interview she had 
 had with them, her papa and mamma seemed 
 very kind and good ; and Ada yes, she liked 
 Ada very much, and she should like to go 
 and live with them all, because it was right 
 that she should live with them ; but then she 
 did not like leaving her aunt Ellen and the 
 Thatched Cottage ; she could not like that if 
 she tried ever so much. Her papa had 
 c 3 
 
18 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 taken a beautiful house near London, and 
 Ada said that they were to have everything 
 in the world that they wanted ; that would 
 certainly be very nice, but then aunt Ellen, 
 well, aunt Ellen would of course come 
 very often to see them, and they should, of 
 course, go to see her ; this was a bright 
 thought, and with it Margaret at length 
 tried to comfort herself as well as she 
 could. 
 
 The last day on which she could call the 
 thatched cottage her home, came. The next 
 morning her papa would be there to take her 
 away. Margaret had spent the afternoon in 
 going with her aunt to say good-bye to a 
 few friends in the neighbourhood, as well as 
 to the old women in the almshouses, with 
 whom she was a great favourite, and in pay- 
 ing a last visit to the infant school, to distri- 
 bute among the children a few little pinafores, 
 which she had saved up her money to buy, 
 and which she had been busily employed in 
 making for the last fortnight. 
 
 " After tea, aunt Ellen," said she, as they 
 walked home, " I shall have to pack up my 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 19 
 
 work-box, and then I shall have done every- 
 thing." 
 
 " And I shall finish knitting your muffa- 
 tees," replied her aunt, " and then I shall 
 have done everything." 
 
 Tea had not been long over before Mar- 
 garet's work-box was brought out. She 
 arranged and re-arranged the contents many 
 times, before she could place them entirely to 
 her satisfaction ; at length she declared that she 
 should not take them out any more. " Look, 
 aunt Ellen," she said, turning round to her 
 aunt at whose side she was sitting, " do 
 you not think this will do ? " 
 
 Mrs. Shirley had not spoken for some time, 
 and as Margaret uttered the words she saw 
 three or four bright tears fall down on the 
 muffatee which she was just completing. She 
 jumped off her seat, and throwing her arms 
 round her aunt's neck exclaimed 
 
 "Aunt Ellen, dear aunty, don't cry, I 
 wish I was not going away, I wish I might 
 stay with you ; but I will ask papa to bring 
 me to see you very often, I will indeed ; and 
 I shall never forget you ; I will think of you 
 
20 MARGARET CRAVEN; OK, 
 
 every day, and I will love you too, oh ! so 
 very much ! " 
 
 " You are a dear child," said Mrs. Shirley, 
 fondly pressing her to her bosom ; " I know 
 you will love me, Margaret, and remember 
 me ; and will you try to remember all I have 
 taught you as well?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed I will, aunt Ellen ; I will 
 remember everything, I will never do any 
 thing that I think you would not like." 
 
 "That is, if you can help it, my dear 
 child. But remember that you must not trust 
 to your own strength to do what is right." 
 
 " No," said Margaret, " I must ask God 
 to help me ; I will remember that too." 
 
 " And you will try to please God, Mar- 
 garet. It is right of you to try to please me, 
 and to please your papa and mamma, but 
 first of all you must try to please God; for 
 sometimes, you know, the things which please 
 him do not please others who are very 
 dear to us." 
 
 Margaret looked up, as if she did not 
 at all understand what her aunt meant. 
 " Don't they? "she said. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 21 
 
 "No, my love. I mean that all do not 
 think alike; what some people think to be 
 very wrong, others consider there is no harm 
 in ; so that, if we are guided only by a 
 desire to please our fellow creatures, we 
 may sometimes go very wrong ; whereas, 
 if we strive to do only those things which 
 please God, and ask him to help us, we 
 shall be quite sure of going right." 
 
 " I think I understand what you mean, 
 aunt Ellen; you mean that if anybody I 
 loved very much were to wish me to do 
 things which I knew displeased God, and 
 I did not do them, I should be quite 
 certain that / was right and they wero 
 wrong." 
 
 " Exactly ; but I hope, dear Margaret, 
 that you will never be placed in such a case." 
 
 " Oh, no!" said Margaret, as if she 
 thought such a thing quite impossible. " I 
 was only supposing, you know. Do you 
 think, aunt Ellen," she continued, "that 
 mamma will teach Ada and me the same 
 as you have done ? " 
 
 "I think it most likely that you will 
 
22 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 have a governess/' replied her aunt ; " but, 
 of course, you will be as obedient to her, 
 Margaret, and attend to all she says, as you 
 would to me or your mamma." 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret ; " but I hope she 
 will be very kind, and teach me as you 
 have done, and Ada. I wonder if Ada 
 likes learning as much as I do." 
 
 "If she does not, you must try to like 
 it better," said Mrs. Shirley. " She is 
 nearly two years younger than you are, 
 remember, and therefore you must set her 
 a good example, not only in learning, but 
 in other things." 
 
 (S In other things, aunt Ellen ? " said 
 Margaret, inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes, you must be kind, and gentle, and 
 forgiving towards her, making allowances 
 for her faults, if you expect her to make 
 allowance for yours." 
 
 "Do you think Ada has faults, then, 
 aunt ? " said Margaret. 
 
 "She would be a very wonderful child 
 if she had not," replied her aunt. " Do you 
 not recollect those verses in the Bible which 
 

 MAKGAKET AND AUNT ELLEN. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 25 
 
 say, c There is none righteous, no, not 
 one 3 f All have sinned, and come short of 
 the glory of God 5 ?"* 
 
 "Yes, I recollect that/' said Margaret; 
 "but I hope Ada is not ill-natured." 
 
 " I certainly should think that there is 
 little reason to fear that, at least, from her 
 appearance, Margaret; but, of course, you 
 must expect to have sometimes to give 
 way to her; you cannot expect to have 
 things run on so smoothly when there is 
 the will of another to consult, as when 
 you can follow your own inclination with- 
 out any one to contradict you." 
 
 "1 do not think I shall mind giving up 
 to Ada, if she will give up to me some- 
 times in return/' said Margaret. 
 
 " Then you must, as I said before, being 
 the elder, set her the example, striving your- 
 self to follow Him, who left * us an example 
 that we should follow his steps,' and remem- 
 bering the words of the apostle, when he 
 says, ' Be ye kind one to another, tender- 
 hearted, forgiving one another, even as 
 * Rom. iii, 10, 23. 
 
26 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven 
 you.' "* 
 
 Margaret sat for some little time in silence 
 on her aunt's knee ; she seemed to be think- 
 ing : at last she said, as if thinking aloud 
 
 "I wonder what old Goody Mills will 
 do without me to go and tell her the texts 
 on Sundays." 
 
 "I suppose I must go and take them to 
 her instead ; do you think that will do ? " 
 said her aunt smiling. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! that will do very nicely if 
 you will, aunt Ellen ; but I shall miss poor 
 old Goody too. I wonder if there are any 
 almshouses, or any Infant School, where 
 mamma lives. Ada said she had never heard 
 of one; was not that funny? But I sup- 
 pose they don't have Infant Schools in 
 India?" 
 
 " Very likely not," said Mrs. Shirley ; " at 
 least not in all parts ; but you must not 
 expect to find everything in your new home 
 that you have been accustomed to here, 
 Margaret. You will have so many fresh 
 * 1 Pet. ii, 21 ; Eph. iv, 32. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 27 
 
 pleasures that you must make up your 
 mind to lose some of the old ones." 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret, thoughtfully ; "only 
 I should like an Infant School. I was 
 thinking, aunt Ellen, that if there should not 
 be one, I shall have too much pocket money. 
 I shall not know what to do with what I used 
 to save for our little children, and for the 
 old women's tea and sugar at Christmas." 
 "Well, you had better wait and see; 
 there are always plenty of good uses to 
 which money can be applied." 
 
 "Only I shall not have you to tell me," 
 said Margaret. "Aunt Ellen," she ex- 
 claimed suddenly, " would it not be a nice 
 plan if I might write to you sometimes, and 
 if you would write to me, and tell me all 
 about everything ? " 
 
 " A very nice plan indeed ; I was going 
 to propose it if you had not thought of 
 it, Margaret. You can write to me as often 
 as your mamma will allow you, and tell me 
 everything you do, and all about yourself." 
 " Oh ! how very pleasant that will be ! 
 and then I shall have a letter back from 
 
28 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 you. But, aunt Ellen," she added, speak- 
 ing in a lower tone, and putting her face 
 closer to her aunt's, " suppose I should 
 be tempted to do what is wrong, as I am 
 now sometimes, may I tell you that, too?" 
 
 " Yes ; you may tell me that, too, my 
 love; but remember to tell it to God also. 
 Remember that you must go to him and 
 confess to him all your faults, asking his 
 forgiveness for the sake of Jesus Christ 
 your Saviour. And you should ask those 
 also against whom you have offended to 
 forgive you." 
 
 "Yes; I will indeed," said Margaret, 
 " and I will ask the Holy Spirit to help me 
 to be good. Aunt Ellen, do you know, I 
 think if it were not for you I should often be 
 a great deal naughtier than I am. I seem 
 sometimes to feel as if I liked to be naughty." 
 
 " Do you know what it is that makes 
 you feel so, Margaret ? " 
 
 "No, aunt, not exactly; I know it is 
 God's Holy Spirit that makes us wish to be 
 good, and puts good thoughts in our wicked 
 hearts; and I know we all have wicked hearts." 
 
BEAUTY OP THE HEART. 29 
 
 "And Satan, the wicked Spirit, puts 
 wicked thoughts into our hearts. We learn 
 from the Bible that Satan seeks to destroy 
 souls by tempting them to sin that they may 
 be lost for ever." 
 
 " That is very dreadful," said Margaret. 
 " I will try always to think of it when I feel 
 as if I should like to be wicked again. But 
 people cannot help doing wrong things some- 
 times, can they, aunt Ellen ?" 
 
 " Not of themselves, as I told you before, 
 Margaret ; but by God's help they can. It 
 is only when we neglect to ask for, and trust 
 to, this help, that he permits us to fall into 
 sin; for the Bible expressly tells us that 
 God 'will with the temptation make a 
 way to escape, that we may be able to 
 bear it/* You know what that means, 
 Margaret." 
 
 " Yes, aunt, I think I do ; it means, does it 
 not, that if Satan tempts us to do a wrong 
 thing, and we feel as if we should very much 
 like to do it, yet if we ask God he will help 
 us not to do it, as he helped me not to take 
 
 * 1 Cor. x, 13. 
 
 D3 
 
30 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 that large peach off the garden wall, though 
 I had got my hand on it and was almost 
 going to pick it last summer." 
 
 " And when I was in the summer-house 
 watching you, though you did not know it 
 until afterwards," said her aunt smiling, 
 " and saw you run off indoors, as if you 
 were frightened." 
 
 " Well, I was frightened," said Margaret, 
 " so frightened lest I might go back again ; 
 and oh, I remember I felt so thankful when 
 I went to bed at night, arid thought that I 
 had not done it. I know it was God who 
 helped me not to take it ; I recollect so well 
 just how I felt when my fingers touched the 
 peach. I seemed to feel all in a moment 
 that he was looking at me, and then I seemed 
 in my heart to ask him to help me, and then 
 I ran away." 
 
 Mrs. Shirley folded her once more in her 
 arms, and Margaret felt the warm soft tears 
 fall upon her face as she said, "God bless 
 you, my darling child; and ever grant you 
 his mighty aid in every temptation to which 
 you may be exposed." 
 
CHAPTER III, 
 
 WHEN Margaret awoke two mornings after, 
 she looked around in amazement, and it 
 was some moments before she could recol- 
 lect how it was that she found herself in 
 a place so different from her own little 
 room, papered with green, at the Thatched 
 Cottage. By degrees she recalled the dif- 
 ferent circumstances of the previous day, 
 finally recollecting that she had been too 
 tired and weary to take notice of anything 
 when she came to bed. She now saw that 
 the room was much more elegantly fur- 
 nished than any of her aunt's rooms at the 
 Thatched Cottage had been, and that the 
 two little beds which it contained, as well 
 as the windows, were hung with sky blue 
 damask. She pushed the curtain of her 
 own bed aside, and saw her sister Ada fast 
 
32 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 asleep in the other. Ada, at that moment, 
 looked very beautiful, and Margaret was so 
 attracted by her appearance, that she slid 
 out of bed, and, creeping silently towards 
 her, imprinted one gentle kiss upon her 
 cheek. The child woke, and rubbed her 
 face with a gesture of impatience. 
 
 "It was only I, Ada dear," said Mar- 
 garet ; " won't you give me another kiss ? " 
 "I thought it was a mosquito," said 
 Ada; and, again closing her eyes, she was 
 soon fast asleep. 
 
 Margaret did not think this a very gra- 
 cious salutation; for though she was not 
 quite so well acquainted with mosquitos as 
 Ada, she knew that they had stings, and 
 she did not at all like her first kiss being 
 taken for a sting of any sort. However, 
 she forgave Ada, supposing her to be, as 
 she really was, very sleepy, and amused her- 
 self by making a quiet tour of the room, 
 and peeping out under the corners of the 
 blinds to see what the outside view might 
 be. Then she again crept into bed, and 
 employed herself, until the servant came to 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 33 
 
 call them, in counting the little silken bobs 
 which hung down from the fringe around 
 her bed. 
 
 Susan (for this Margaret discovered the 
 servant's name to be) had some difficulty 
 in arousing Ada, and still more in inducing 
 her to get up, and Margaret, who had al- 
 ways been accustomed to treat her aunt's 
 servants with proper respect, could not help 
 feeling astonished at the manner in which 
 Ada, as soon as she began to dress, or- 
 dered Susan about, never condescending to 
 thank her for any of the services she per- 
 formed. At length they were both dressed, 
 Margaret having had to wait some time 
 before her frock could be fastened, on account 
 of Ada's insisting upon wearing one which 
 she had torn, and which Susan was con- 
 sequently obliged to sit down and mend. 
 
 "Now," said Ada, "let us go down, and 
 I will show you the new pony." 
 
 " But we have not said our prayers yet/* 
 said Margaret. 
 
 " Oh, no more we have ; but we can say 
 them afterwards. Come along," said Ada. 
 
34 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 "I would rather say mine now," said 
 Margaret, drawing back. 
 
 " Very well," said Ada, " it will soon be 
 over, to be sure," and she knelt down by 
 the foot of her bed. 
 
 Margaret knelt down by the side of 
 hers, but did not rise for a long time after 
 her sister. 
 
 " What a time you are," said Ada, " I 
 could have said my prayers twenty times 
 while you have been saying yours. I always 
 make great haste with my prayers," 
 
 " But that is not right," replied Marga- 
 ret ; " we ought not to be in a hurry when 
 we are speaking to God." 
 
 Ada gave her an amazed look, and they 
 went down stairs together. Mr. Craven was 
 in the breakfast room ; he kissed them both, 
 and upon Ada inquiring about the new 
 pony, he said he would take them to see it 
 himself, at the same time forbidding them 
 ever to go into the stable, alone. As they 
 were going along he looked at Margaret 
 and said, " Why, Margaret, you are not a 
 bit like Ada ; you are something like your 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART, 35 
 
 aunt Ellen, but I hope you're not so 
 good as she is," he added, in a half joking 
 way. 
 
 " No ; I am not nearly so good as aunt 
 Ellen," said Margaret, very seriously. 
 
 " Well, I am very glad of. it, my dear," 
 said her papa, apparently amused at her 
 answer; "you would be a great deal too 
 good for me if you were. I don't think 
 your aunt Ellen was ever a naughty girl 
 once in her life." 
 
 " But I have been naughty many times," 
 said Margaret, in the same serious way. 
 
 " So much the better, my dear ; I tell 
 yon, you would be too good for me if you 
 had not." 
 
 " But, papa," said Margaret, looking up 
 to his face, " don't you like good people ? 
 I love aunt Ellen dearly." 
 
 " So do I, Margaret," he replied, seeing 
 that he had gone a little too far; "and 
 I hope you always will love her, for I 
 am sure she deserves it." 
 
 Margaret felt satisfied that her papa had 
 only been joking; and as they had now 
 
36 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 arrived at the stable door, the pony, a 
 beautiful little cream-coloured creature, soon 
 drew their attention from other subjects. 
 Ada was impatient for a ride. Margaret 
 stood by and admired. 
 
 " Margaret must have the first ride, she 
 is the eldest," said Mr. Craven, drawing 
 her forward as soon as the side saddle was 
 adjusted, but Ada endeavoured to mount, 
 and said that she would have the first. 
 " I don't mind, papa," said Margaret, as 
 her father attempted to pull Ada down. " 1 
 can have a ride afterwards." 
 
 "Aunt Ellen all over," murmured Mr. 
 Craven to himself, but he allowed Ada to 
 have the first ride nevertheless. 
 
 When they returned to the house Mrs. 
 Craven was down and waiting breakfast for 
 them. She kissed Margaret, and after ask- 
 ing her how she liked the new pony, bade 
 her and Ada stand up together that she might 
 see the difference in their height. 
 
 " Ada is nearly as tall as you, Margaret," 
 said she, " although she is more than a year 
 and a half younger. I am afraid you have a 
 
BEAUTY OP THE HEART. 37 
 
 habit of stooping, you have not begun dancing 
 I can see." 
 
 Margaret replied that she had no dancing 
 master at her aunt Ellen's, upon which her 
 mother said that Ada had learned some 
 time, and could already dance very well. 
 " You must begin too," said she ; " your new 
 governess will be here next week : she is a 
 very accomplished lady, and I hope you will 
 both of you be good girls, and make the 
 most of her instructions/' 
 
 After breakfast, Ada, who seemed to delight 
 in being of importance, took Margaret all 
 over the grounds, then into the different parts 
 of the house. " And now," said she, " we will 
 go upstairs, and I will show you all my frocks 
 and pretty things, and afterwards, when 
 Susan has unpacked your boxes, I can see 
 yours." 
 
 The room was soon strewn with articles of 
 dress of every description. Ada evidently 
 took great pride in displaying her finery; 
 Margaret remarked that she thought some 
 of her frocks were very pretty. 
 
 " Yes/' said Ada, " those are what I wear 
 
38 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 when there is company, and I go in to 
 dessert after dinner; you will have to go 
 as well now, but I suppose you haven't 
 any frocks so handsome as these." 
 
 "No," replied Margaret; "aunt Ellen 
 never wears such smart things herself, so 
 she did not buy them for me. I always 
 used to wear white in the evening, if aunt 
 had any friends/' 
 
 tf Ah ! but you won't now ; mamma likes 
 to see people nicely dressed, and of course 
 you will have the same things that I do," 
 said Ada, in a patronizing way. 
 
 " Shall we fold all these up now, and 
 put them away again?" said Margaret, 
 who really began to feel quite tired of look- 
 ing at so many dresses. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Susan can do that," said Ada ; 
 " I never fold up my own things." 
 
 " But she is unpacking my boxes," replied 
 Margaret ; " besides, Ada, we pulled them 
 all out to amuse ourselves, and it is not fair 
 that she should have to put them away 
 again." 
 
 66 Why not ? " said Ada ; " she's my scr- 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 39 
 
 vant our servant, at least," she added, 
 correcting herself; "what's the use of her 
 if she is not to wait upon us ? " 
 
 This was quite a new style of things to 
 Margaret, and Ada shortly after going 
 down stairs, she took the opportunity of 
 asking Susan if she could assist her in 
 taking the things out of her trunks. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss," replied Susan, "if 
 you would come to these drawers and show 
 me how you like your things put, it would 
 save me the trouble of altering them after- 
 wards ; Miss Ada is so very particular about 
 hers." 
 
 " I am very sorry, Susan," said Margaret, 
 as she helped to place some of her things 
 in the drawer, " that you will have the 
 trouble of putting away all Ada's things, 
 for she only got them out to show me ; I 
 would fold them up myself only I do 
 not exactly know how she would like them 
 done." 
 
 "I don't think it will ever be a trouble 
 to me to do anything for you, Miss Mar- 
 garet," said Susan. She would have added, 
 
40 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " 1 wish Miss Ada were like you ; " but 
 thought she had better leave the words un- 
 said. Margaret thanked her for her kindness, 
 and then said, " Shall you want this little 
 top drawer for anything, Susan ? " 
 
 Susan thought not ; upon which Margaret 
 added, " Then I think I should like to keep 
 my books in it; Ada says that there is a 
 book case in the school-room, where I can 
 put them, but I would rather keep some 
 of them here my Bible, and Prayer Book, 
 and Hymn Book, and a few other little 
 books ; they will be easier for me to get at ; 
 my Bible, you know, I shall want every 
 night." 
 
 " Every night, Miss ? " said Susan, in a 
 tone of slight astonishment. 
 
 " Yes/' said Margaret. (( I always read 
 a chapter, or part of one, to my aunt 
 Ellen every night before I went to bed, and 
 she used to explain it to me ; but she said, 
 that as she thought mamma might very often 
 be engaged, and not able to hear me, I 
 had better make it a rule always to read to 
 myself now, for fear of missing sometimes." 
 
BEAUTY OP THE HEART. 41 
 
 When Susan went down stairs she told 
 her fellow-servants that she thought Miss 
 Margaret much too good for that house, and 
 that it was a pity she had ever come into it. 
 
 With Margaret the day passed quickly 
 ; away ; there was so much to hear, and so 
 many things to see, that she thought she 
 should never come to the end of them; 
 yet amidst all, true to her promise of never 
 forgetting her aunt Ellen, her thoughts 
 many times wandered back to the Thatched 
 Cottage, and in her heart was a fond, half 
 regretful recollection of the happiness she 
 had left behind her there. When bed-time 
 came, Ada was dreadfully sleepy, she having, 
 on the strength of its being Margaret's first 
 day at home, petitioned to be allowed to 
 sit up an hour later than usual. Margaret 
 was tired too, but as soon as they were 
 undressed, she threw her dressing gown 
 around her, and taking out her Bible, sat 
 down and began to read. 
 
 "What are you about, Margaret," said 
 Ada; "why do you not get into bed? I 
 want to go to sleep." 
 
 E3 
 
42 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " I am only reading a little, Ada dear," 
 replied Margaret, " I shall not disturb you 
 if you go to sleep/' 
 
 " But I cannot go to sleep while the 
 light's burning," said Ada, pettishly ; " and 
 you cannot want to read to-night ; there will 
 be plenty of time to-morrow." 
 
 "There, Miss Ada, you cannot see the 
 light now, if I draw the curtain," said 
 Susan ; " so go to sleep like a good girl." 
 
 But Ada kept on talking and grumbling, 
 so that at last Margaret was obliged to close 
 her book and put it back in the drawer. She 
 then went up to Ada's bed to wish her good 
 night. " Susan can put the light out now, 
 Ada," said she, "but please do not talk 
 to me for a little while, dear; I am going 
 to say my prayers." 
 
 Ada's sleepiness alone prevented her non- 
 compliance with this request, and Margaret, 
 her thoughts in a complete whirl, and her 
 heart full of new and strange feelings, 
 knelt down to pray. After a while her 
 ideas became more collected, and she prayed 
 earnestly that God would bless all who 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 43 
 
 were dear to her, her father and mother, 
 her dear sister Ada, and last, but not least, 
 her beloved aunt Ellen. She prayed for 
 herself too, that she might be enabled, by 
 the Holy Spirit's help, to put all her trust 
 in the Lord Jesus Christ, to love God and 
 to keep his commandments, that she might 
 be watered with the dew of his grace while 
 here on earth, and finally received, through 
 the merits of her Saviour, into the ever- 
 lasting kingdom which he has prepared for 
 those who love him. 
 
 When she rose from her knees, Susan, 
 who was still in the room, whispered, " It 
 takes you longer than your sister to say 
 your prayers, Miss Margaret." 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret; "because you 
 know, Susan, I have so many things to ask 
 for ; but I don't the least mind being in the 
 dark another night, if it keeps you too long, 
 Susan." 
 
 "No, Miss Margaret, I would not mind 
 waiting twice as long for you," she replied, 
 as she helped her into bed. " I would not 
 have put the candle out, only I knew 
 
44 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 Miss Ada would go grumbling to your 
 mamma." 
 
 " Thank you, Susan," said Margaret, " I 
 am very much obliged to you for being 
 so kind to me; you have tucked me up 
 just as aunt Ellen used; she always came 
 to kiss me every night after I was in bed." 
 And two or three tears dropped on Mar- 
 garet's pillow as she thought how long it 
 might be before she should see that dear 
 face bending over her again. 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 THE sabbath had indeed ever been "The 
 Pearl of Days" in the Thatched Cottage. 
 Margaret had generally been accustomed to 
 accompany her aunt immediately after their 
 early breakfast to the Sunday school, where 
 she stood by her side as she taught her 
 class. They then went to church. 
 
 In the afternoon it was always Mrs. 
 Shirley's practice to assemble around her as 
 many as chose to come, and the number 
 was frequently not small, of the children of 
 the little farmers, and others in the village, 
 who considered themselves just a grade too 
 high to attend the parochial school. With 
 these she read the Bible, explaining the 
 more difficult parts, and encouraging them 
 to its study, by many little plans of her 
 own. Sometimes Margaret joined this class, 
 
46 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 but more frequently she went to the alms 
 houses close by, to read for an hour or two 
 to blind Goody Mills, the expected loss of 
 whose society we found her regretting. In 
 the evening they went to church again, and 
 the day was closed with pleasant and useful 
 conversation, or a little reading, and, finally, 
 evening worship. To Margaret it was 
 always a happy one, but she was now 
 destined to spend her Sundays in a very 
 different way. 
 
 In Mr. Craven's house breakfast was 
 always late on Sunday morning; so late, 
 that Mrs. Craven was often late at church, 
 too, in consequence of it. Mr. Craven 
 accompanied her there sometimes, but only 
 sometimes. It was one of his opinions, that 
 as people who went to church were often 
 quite as wicked as those who stayed at home, 
 there was very little use in attending church 
 at all; and so, instead of going in the hope 
 of growing better, he remained away, and 
 grew, if not worse, at least, more careless 
 and indifferent. 
 
 On the first Sunday morning of her 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 47 
 
 residence at home, Margaret noticed that 
 new frocks and bonnets were laid out for 
 her and Ada, much smarter than any she 
 had ever yet worn. Ada was delighted, 
 and spent much time in looking at herself 
 in the glass ; but Margaret, to say the 
 truth, felt rather out of her element. 
 When they joined their mamma at the hall 
 door, where the carriage was waiting for 
 them, she looked at them both with evident 
 satisfaction, and said, " You do look a little 
 fit to be seen now, Margaret ; I can't 
 think how your aunt could have dressed 
 you in such dingy things ; but make haste, 
 and get into the carriage, or we shall be 
 too late." 
 
 Margaret, however, did not like her new 
 dress any the better for hearing her aunt's 
 taste so disparagingly spoken of. When they 
 came out of church, Ada made remarks 
 on the people whom she had seen there. 
 
 " Did you see that lady that sat three 
 pews before us," said she to Margaret, 
 "in a blue bonnet and feathers? that was 
 Lady F . Mamma knows her." 
 
48 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 "No," replied Margaret, "I did not notice 
 her." 
 
 " You saw those two young ladies in 
 white, then, just across the aisle ; they are 
 the Clergyman's daughters; mamma says 
 they look regular frights in those great 
 bonnets." 
 
 " No, I do not think I saw them/' said 
 Margaret; " I did not look across that way." 
 
 " What did you do with your eyes then ? " 
 said Ada, " I do not think you saw any- 
 body." 
 
 " Aunt Ellen always says it's not right to 
 look about in church," replied Margaret. 
 
 " Well, but you need not mind now what 
 she says," said Ada. 
 
 Margaret was going to reply that she 
 liked minding vrhat her aunt said, when her 
 mamma interrupted her by saying, " Margaret 
 is quite right, Ada ; it is extremely vulgar to 
 stare about in church in the way you do, you 
 
 never see the Miss F s do so, and I must 
 
 beg that you will correct this habit." 
 
 Ada pouted, and Margaret could not help 
 thinking that the reason which her mamma 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 49 
 
 had assigned for its not being right to stare 
 about in church was a very different one to 
 that which her aunt Ellen would have given. 
 
 "There is to be company to dinner to- 
 night," said Ada, as she and Margaret were 
 taking off their things ; " I heard mamma 
 giving orders about the dessert; we shall 
 have to go into the dining room after 
 dinner." 
 
 "Company to-night ?" repeated Margaret 
 in a tone of astonishment, "why it is 
 Sunday!" 
 
 "Well, what does that signify?" said Ada, 
 " papa likes to have company on Sundays, 
 it is so dull without, he says." 
 
 In the afternoon the two sisters were in 
 the drawing-room together. Mr. Craven 
 came in. " Come, Margaret/' said he, " I 
 have not heard you play yet, and aunt 
 Ellen gave me a flourishing account of 
 your music; sit down and play me a 
 tune." 
 
 Margaret immediately went to the piano, 
 and commenced a hymn tune. "That is not 
 a very pretty tune, I think," said her father, 
 
50 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 " although you played it very nicely ; do 
 you not know something rather merrier, 
 Margaret ? " 
 
 " I do not think there are any merry hymn 
 tunes, papa," said Margaret, looking round. 
 
 "No, I don't suppose there are," said 
 her father, "but I do not want hymn 
 tunes; play me something else, something 
 lively." 
 
 u But it is Sunday, papa," said Margaret 
 timidly. 
 
 " Well, and may not people play lively 
 tunes on Sunday ?" said he ; " come, sit 
 down ; I am sure you know some." 
 
 " I would rather not, papa, please," said 
 Margaret, drawing back, as he attempted to 
 place her again on the music stool. 
 
 " Ah ! I see how it is," said her papa, 
 "your aunt has made a regular little 
 Methodist of you, in spite of all the direc- 
 tions I gave her to the contrary ; has she 
 not, Margaret?" he continued more kindly, 
 and patting her shoulder as he spoke. 
 
 " I don't know, papa," she replied ; " I 
 don't know what a Methodist is." 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 51 
 
 " Well, and I am sure I cannot tell you," 
 said her father; "only you need not look 
 so scared about it, for they are very good 
 sort of people ; at least, so your aunt Ellen 
 would say." 
 
 Soon after this Margaret went up stairs to 
 her own room, and taking out her Bible and 
 some of her little books began to read, feel- 
 ing all the while very lonely and sad at heart 
 indeed. She thought of her aunt Ellen, of 
 how she was spending the day, and of all she 
 had said to her about trying to please God, 
 and that he would help her to keep in the 
 right path if she asked him ; and then she 
 lifted up her heart to her Father in heaven 
 and felt comforted. In a little while her 
 father's voice was heard calling to her to 
 come out in the garden. When she went 
 down she found him giving Ada rides round 
 the paddock on the new pony. 
 
 " Come, Meggie," he said, as soon as he 
 saw her, " put away that solemn face, and 
 have a ride. Ada is only going round once 
 more." Margaret did not answer, but as 
 soon as she saw that his attention was again 
 
52 MAKGAHET CRAVEN ; Oil, 
 
 taken up with Ada, she slipped away and 
 ran back to her own room. 
 
 In the evening she and Ada were both 
 dressed with every possible care to go in to 
 dessert. Ada was a child whom any one 
 could love and caress ; her beauty was so 
 striking, and her manners, when she was 
 in a good humour, so engaging, that few 
 could help being attracted by her. Mar- 
 garet's manners, on the contrary, were timid, 
 reserved, and perhaps from her having been 
 so unaccustomed to society, a little awkward. 
 She was not long in feeling the difference 
 in the notice taken of her and of Ada, by 
 her father's guests. Ada, who had seen 
 them all before, was petted, flattered, and 
 caressed by every one, and laughed and 
 talked without the least sign of bashfulness, 
 but to Margaret they were strangers ; few 
 spoke to her, and to those few she seemed 
 as if she could not find a single word to 
 say in return. Often in the course of the 
 evening she felt the tears almost ready to 
 rise into her eyes, and oh ! how often did she 
 wish herself back again in the quiet parlour 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 53 
 
 of the Thatched Cottage, reading her evening 
 portion of Scripture to her aunt Ellen, or 
 singing the evening hymn, with which, and 
 family prayer, their sabbath duties always 
 closed. 
 
 At length, to her great relief, the time 
 came for them to say good-night, and when 
 Margaret laid her head upon her pillow, in 
 the dark, gentle stillness of the night, she 
 for the first time since she had left her aunt, 
 indulged in the luxury of a good cry. After 
 this, she again asked God to bless her, and 
 a secret feeling of peace and happiness stole 
 over her ; the everlasting arms were beneath 
 her ; and she slept sweetly under the shadow 
 of his wing, who has said, as of his vine- 
 yard, so of each, even the weakest vine 
 planted in it, " I the Lord do keep it ; I 
 will water it every moment : lest any hurt 
 it, I will keep it night and day.' 1 * 
 * Isa, xxrii. 3. 
 
 r3 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE next week Miss Gregory, the new 
 governess, came. Margaret had built very 
 much upon the thought of her coming; for 
 never having been taught by any one but 
 her aunt Ellen, an idea had taken possession 
 of her mind that Miss Gregory would be 
 something like her and teach like her. In 
 this, however, she was doomed to be greatly 
 disappointed, for Miss Gregory and Mrs. 
 Shirley were in nearly every respect as un- 
 like as two persons could well be. Miss 
 Gregory was a person of stiff and rather 
 haughty manners, and of a dashing, stylish 
 appearance, while Mrs. Shirley, as our young 
 readers will have concluded from what they 
 already know of her, was exactly the opposite 
 in all these respects. 
 
 On the day of Miss Gregory's arrival, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 55 
 
 Margaret in the evening happened to be in 
 the drawing-room when the governess and 
 Mrs. Craven were talking together. Mar- 
 garet had no intention of listening, but she 
 could not avoid over-hearing what they said, 
 although she was seated at some distance 
 from them. 
 
 " I have brouuht Ada up under my own 
 eye," said Mrs. Craven, " but Margaret, on 
 account of her being then a delicate child, 
 was left, when we went abroad, under the 
 care of a sister of Mr. Craven's, who 
 until this time has entirely conducted her 
 education." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Miss Gregory, " she is 
 very different in appearance from her 
 sister." 
 
 " Oh yes ; they are different in every 
 respect," replied Mrs. Craven, " and I very 
 much regret that we were compelled to 
 leave Margaret so long as we did with her 
 aunt, as, although I have no doubt that she 
 is a most excellent person, she has given 
 her such strange, odd notions on some points, 
 that I fear vou will have a little trouble in 
 
56 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 getting them out of her ; you may observe, 
 too, that she is awkward in her manners, 
 and not at all stylish in her movements; 
 but those things I hope you will soon be 
 able to correct." 
 
 Miss Gregory replied that she had not 
 a doubt of it, as her two last pupils, the 
 
 daughters of Sir James H , were 
 
 considered to be exceedingly awkward when 
 she first went to them, but now every 
 one noticed them as most graceful and 
 elegant girls. Margaret felt that she had 
 no right to hear any more, and with her 
 heart all in a flutter, moved off to the 
 farthest end of the room. 
 
 Nothing could be more contrary to the 
 system in which Margaret had hitherto been 
 educated than that adopted by Miss Gregory. 
 All her endeavours were directed towards 
 making her pupils proficient in showy and 
 outside accomplishments, and in imparting 
 to them what she considered fashionable and 
 stylish manners and movements. Margaret 
 was at first in frequent disgrace for not 
 holding her head that way, and her shoulders 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 57 
 
 this, while Ada was as constantly com- 
 mended for her superior grace and elegance. 
 By this time Margaret had ceased to be 
 considered as a stranger in the house, and 
 Ada's character began to come out in its 
 true light. Susan said, that no one, to see 
 them together, would ever suppose that Miss 
 Margaret was the elder, for Ada did 
 nothing but domineer over her, and order 
 her about, always insisting upon having her 
 own way in everything. 
 
 At first Margaret had borne all this very 
 amiably, but when she found that Ada 
 considered it as a matter of course that she 
 should always give way to her, she grew 
 less patient, and often felt exceedingly 
 irritated against her sister. There were 
 other things, too, which made her at times 
 feel very unhappy. Her father, if he did 
 not exactly laugh at her aunt Ellen for 
 being religious, would often throw out jests 
 about her which Margaret could well under- 
 stand, but did not at all like. She saw, too, 
 that Ada was much more thought of and 
 considered than herself; and though, as far 
 
58 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 as outward circumstances went, they were 
 treated exactly alike, yet that the place 
 which she held in the hearts of her parents, 
 especially of her mother, was much smaller 
 than that assigned to Ada. Yet she loved 
 Ada nevertheless, and tried hard not to 
 feel envious of the love which all seemed 
 anxious to shower down upon her. 
 
 Margaret tried hard too to banish other 
 sinful feelings, and wrong thoughts, which 
 she became conscious were by degrees en- 
 deavouring to obtain access to her heart, 
 and as long as she watched and strove and 
 prayed, she came off conqueror ; but many 
 temptations were around her, and more than 
 once she felt herself on the point of falling, 
 more than once her foot slipped, and she 
 no longer stood upright in the narrow way. 
 By slow degrees she grew less watchful 
 over herself, and her trust,, in the Saviour, 
 and the desire to please God within her 
 heart, seemed to be less earnest than they 
 had once been. Sinful thoughts and passions 
 were allowed after a time to grow up un- 
 subdued within her, and though in her 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 59 
 
 better moments she sought God's help, yet 
 the whisperings of the Spirit in her con- 
 science were often unheard ; or, if heard, were 
 unheeded or forgotten. 
 
 At first she had written long letters to 
 her aunt, faithfully relating whatever hap- 
 pened to her, pouring, as she had been 
 ever wont to do, all her short-comings and 
 temptations into that faithful bosom, and 
 receiving in return words of warning, help, 
 or encouragement, as the case might be. 
 Her mother took no notice of this corres- 
 pondence. One day, however, she took 
 up one of Mrs. Shirley 's letters, but soon 
 threw it down again, saying that she could 
 not think what in the world Margaret could 
 want to write such long letters for, if she 
 always had such dull ones in return. But 
 by and by Margaret's letters to her aunt 
 became shorter* and less frequent; she 
 did not love her less, but she seemed to 
 have less to say to her, or perhaps less 
 that she liked to say. 
 
 Ada was for her age much more back- 
 ward in her education than Margaret, and 
 
60 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 being besides both idle and inattentive, was 
 frequently in disgrace with Miss Gregory 
 about her studies. Margaret, on the con- 
 trary, who, as much from inclination as 
 habit, always performed her tasks well and 
 punctually, was soon on that account, not- 
 withstanding her awkward manners (which 
 Miss Gregory, however, declared to be con- 
 siderably improved), in high favour with that 
 lady. Margaret's heart, when she heard the 
 praises and commendations bestowed upon 
 her, began to be lifted up, and she would 
 feel pleased within herself that in one respect, 
 at least, she was superior to Ada. One 
 wrong feeling seldom finds its way into our 
 hearts without making room for more, and 
 as this feeling of pride kept growing within 
 Margaret, others equally hurtful and per- 
 nicious began to spring up around it. She 
 became less kind to Ada, less gentle and 
 obliging in her manners towards others, less 
 careful to obey her parents, and render them 
 due honour. That Ada did the same was 
 no excuse for her, and yet she made it one. 
 "Ada does not do what mamma tells her 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 61 
 
 directly," she would say to herself sometimes, 
 when chidden for acts of disobedience, " and 
 mamma is not angry with her; I do not 
 see why she should be with me." 
 
 When Miss Gregory first came, Ada, 
 who was, as we have said, often in trouble 
 with the tasks which she had to perform out 
 of school hours, had always met with a ready 
 helper in Margaret ; but when Margaret 
 found, after a time, that Ada had no incli- 
 nation to return this kindness, by showing 
 her kindness in other respects, she made up 
 her mind that she would not help her any 
 more, or, at least, not so often as she had 
 done. Miss Gregory always desired that 
 their books and other things should be 
 arranged on the table before she came into 
 the school-room after breakfast; this they 
 took it in turn to do, week by week, but 
 Ada, unless reminded of it or assisted by 
 Margaret, as often forgot it as not; now, 
 however, Margaret left off reminding her 
 of this also, and the consequence was, that 
 Ada often had a long lesson to learn as a 
 punishment for her negligence. 
 
62 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 " There, Miss Ada," said Miss Gregory, 
 as she one morning crossed Ada's French 
 exercise from top to bottom, " I desire that 
 this exercise may be written over again 
 before you go to bed to-night; if I do not 
 find it properly written, and on the table 
 to-morrow morning, you will have one 
 double the length to write next time. I 
 shall not remind you of it, remember; so 
 you must recollect for yourself." When 
 Margaret went to the closet in the evening 
 to get her lesson books, she saw that Ada's 
 exercise remained untouched ; it would have 
 been kind in her to have reminded her of it, 
 and probably, had Ada been in the room, 
 she might have said to her, " Ada, you have 
 not written your exercise." But she would 
 not trouble herself to seek for her. " I am 
 sure Ada would not take so much pains for 
 me," she said to herself, as she sat down 
 to learn her lessons, forgetful of the beau- 
 tiful precept, to " do good, hoping for nothing 
 again." 
 
 In the morning Miss Gregory, as Mar- 
 garet had expected, was very angry, and 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 63 
 
 Ada was in disgrace the whole day, while 
 on Margaret she bestowed several little 
 indulgences, and made a point of holding 
 her up as an example for Ada to follow. 
 If Margaret had received these praises with 
 humility, and kindly endeavoured to help 
 Ada out of her trouble, the bond of sisterly 
 affection between them would have been 
 more closely cemented, but she did not do 
 either ; she behaved coldly and proudly 
 towards the humbled Ada, not only on this 
 occasion, but on many others of a similar 
 kind, and the consequence was that Ada 
 began to take a dislike to her, and to delight 
 in teasing and vexing her in every way that 
 she could ; and so the breach between them, 
 begun by very trifles, grew wider and wider 
 every day. 
 
 And Margaret, did she feel happy with 
 all this? Oh no; the testimony of an 
 approving conscience was no longer hers, 
 and she often felt very wretched and 
 miserable indeed. Mr. and Mrs. Craven 
 were frequent witnesses of the disputes and 
 bickerings which took place between her and 
 
64 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 Ada; and more than this, Ada frequently 
 carried to her mother exaggerated or mis- 
 stated accounts of many things which Mar- 
 garet had done, as she alleged, out of 
 unkindness to her ; and as Mrs. Craven 
 seldom took the pains to examine into the 
 matter, Margaret was very often blamed 
 much more than she deserved, and scolded 
 for things which were no fault of hers, 
 while Ada's domineering and self-willed ways 
 were taken no notice of. All these little 
 circumstances fretted Margaret's temper, and 
 instead of asking God, as she had at first 
 done, to help her to bear them meekly, she 
 went on resisting, and often returning evil 
 for evil, thus making bad worse, and 
 growing more unhappy every day. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ONE evening Margaret and Ada were invited 
 to a juvenile party in the neighbourhood, 
 Ada, who thought quite as much of her 
 appearance as if she had been a grown-up 
 lady, begged of her mother to let them have 
 new frocks for the occasion. She had one 
 day happened to overhear one of her 
 mamma's friends say to another, " How well 
 Ada looks in pink/' But she had not a pink 
 evening frock, and ever since then her desire 
 had been to possess one, and Mrs. Craven, 
 though without knowing her reason, now 
 complied with her desire, and bought them 
 each a rose-coloured silk, trimmed with 
 white lace. Ada was so impatient to wear 
 her frock that she could hardly wait for 
 the evening to arrive. It came, however, 
 at last. The frocks were laid out, and 
 Susan came up to dress the sisters. 
 a 3 
 
G6 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 " Susan," said Ada, taking up her frock 
 to examine it, "there is not so much lace 
 on my frock as on Margaret's/' 
 
 " I don't think there's any difference, 
 Miss Ada," said Susan. 
 
 " Yes, there is," replied Ada, " there are 
 two rows round Margaret's sleeves, and 
 only one round mine ; I know there's some 
 more lace, in one of mamma's drawers, just 
 like it; I shall go and fetch it for you to 
 tack round for me." 
 
 Mrs. Craven happened to be out, so 
 Margaret interposed, "Ada, I don't think 
 mamma will like you to go to her drawers 
 when she is out." 
 
 " Oh yes, she will," replied Ada, and off 
 she ran, Susan fastening Margaret's frock 
 the meanwhile. 
 
 When she returned she had the lace in 
 one hand, and a bottle of what appeared to 
 be scent in the other. 
 
 " Here's the lace, Susan," said she, " make 
 haste and do it; and I've brought this 
 scent," she added ; (i will you have some, 
 Margaret?" 
 

 
 PREPARING FOIl A VISIT. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 69 
 
 " We may not take mamma's scent, 
 may we ? " said Margaret. 
 
 " Oh yes/' replied Ada ; " I asked her 
 before she went, and she said I might take 
 the bottle off her dressing table." 
 
 Margaret held out her handkerchief, then, 
 putting it to her face, exclaimed, " It's not 
 scent, Ada, I don't know what it is," and 
 she threw down the handkerchief in dis- 
 gust, 
 
 "Not scent!" exclaimed Ada, snatching 
 up the bottle, but by some mischance it 
 slipped from her hand, emptying its contents 
 upon the beautiful frock which lay in Susan's 
 lap. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " cried Ada, " what have I 
 done ; will it stain, Susan ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know what it was in 
 the bottle," said Susan ; " but yes ; oh, 
 look if it has not taken every bit of colour 
 completely out and such great patches too, 
 all over the front." 
 
 " Oh ! what shall I do? " said Ada, burst- 
 ing into tears of vexation. 
 
 " You must wear one of your India muslin 
 
70 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 ones, Miss Ada, with a pink sash," said 
 Susan. 
 
 " No, I will not," cried Ada passionately ; 
 " I will not wear anything ; I will not go at 
 all." 
 
 "But you must, Ada," said Margaret; 
 " now we have been invited." 
 
 U I will not, then," returned Ada; "and 
 I am not going to be ordered about by you, 
 Margaret ; for though you are the eldest, 
 nobody thinks half so much of you as they 
 do of me." 
 
 The colour rose to Margaret's face at this 
 unprovoked impertinence on Ada's part, and 
 she walked away into the school-room. 
 
 " Come, Miss Ada," said Susan, coaxingly, 
 " let me put on this white frock ; I am sure 
 it looks very nice." 
 
 "No; I will not," said Ada, "I will not 
 go in white, and Margaret in the pretty rose- 
 colour that I wanted so much; I do not 
 choose her to be better dressed than I am ; 
 I would not care if she were going to wear 
 white too." 
 
 Susan slipped into the school-room after 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 71 
 
 Margaret. "Miss Margaret," she said, "I 
 do not know what I shall do with Miss Ada ; 
 she says she will not wear a white frock, 
 and I know your mamma will be so angry 
 if you do not go." 
 
 " Well, I cannot help it," said Margaret ; 
 " it is Ada's own fault. I did not throw 
 the bottle down." 
 
 " No ; I know you did not, Miss ; but 
 Miss Margaret, dear, do you think you 
 would mind wearing a white frock too, just 
 this once? It would be right enough, then, 
 with Miss Ada." 
 
 Margaret paused a moment ; the good and 
 the bad were contending within her; alas! 
 the bad prevailed : she replied, " No, indeed, 
 Susan; I do not see why I should wear 
 white just to please Ada; if she were not 
 so unkind to me I would not mind, but if 
 I go at all to-night I shall wear this frock, 
 and perhaps Ada will see that people think 
 something of me too, as well as of her." 
 
 " Well, I am sure I cannot blame you, 
 Miss Margaret ; Miss Ada is very pert, and 
 you do look uncommonly nice in that frock." 
 
72 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 After much coaxing on Susan's part, Ada 
 was at length prevailed upon to suffer her- 
 self to be dressed in the white frock, and 
 once at the party, soon forgot her troubles 
 amidst the pleasures of the evening. She 
 was a beautiful dancer, and was, moreover, 
 passionately fond of the amusement. Mar- 
 garet was not nearly so fond of it, and be- 
 sides, having learned but a short time, danced 
 very indifferently : no other amusement was 
 provided for the young people, and after 
 having danced a short time, she went and 
 sat down on a window seat, being almost 
 concealed by the curtains which fell over it. 
 After a time two ladies took possession of 
 a sofa just in front of her; she sat watching 
 the dancers, and presently saw Ada, full of 
 life and spirits, at no great distance. 
 
 " What a lovely little creature that Ada 
 Craven is," said one of the ladies to the 
 other; "do you see her in white, with a 
 pink sash?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the other; "I think she 
 is one of the sweetest children I ever saw ; 
 quite a little fairy ; and she is so prettily 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 73 
 
 dressed, too, to-night. Her mamma sometimes 
 loads her a great deal too much with finery. 
 What a different girl the other is Margaret, 
 I think, they call her; is she here to- 
 night?" 
 
 " Yes ; I saw her somewhere just now," 
 was the reply, " in a rose-coloured silk dress 
 trimmed with lace ; such a ridiculous dress 
 for a girl of her age, and not at all suited 
 to her complexion either; she would have 
 looked three times as well if she had been 
 dressed like Ada." 
 
 "Does she dance well?" inquired the 
 other lady. 
 
 " Oh, no ; very badly indeed ; but it is 
 not to be wondered at, for until the last six 
 months, you know, she has been with an 
 aunt in the country. I dare say she will 
 improve after a time, but she will never 
 be anything to compare with Ada in point 
 of appearance." 
 
 This was enough for Margaret ; she crept 
 away from her seat ; but there was no more 
 pleasure for her that evening. She wished 
 she could have gone home that very moment 
 
74 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 to have taken off the hateful pink silk frock, 
 and every time Ada came near her she 
 could hardly bear to look at her, for the 
 lady's words still kept ringing in her ears, 
 "She will never be anything to compare 
 with Ada." 
 
 " Oh ! " said she to herself, as with a bitter 
 feeling in her heart, she lay down on her bed 
 that night, " oh that I could go again and 
 live with aunt Ellen ! She loved me ; she 
 does not love people because they are beau- 
 tiful. Oh, if I had been beautiful like Ada !" 
 Ah ! Margaret, Margaret ! but where is that 
 beauty of the heart which that dear friend 
 so earnestly bade you cultivate? have you 
 forgotten her words? have you not left it, 
 like a neglected plant, to wither and die of 
 itself? Why is it that you now so seldom 
 pray that your heart may be watered with 
 heavenly dew from the Holy Spirit? why 
 is it that you now so seldom seek, in the 
 pleasant pastures of God's holy word, for 
 food whereby it might be nourished and 
 strengthened? Ah, Margaret! desire not 
 beauty, for it is vain, but seek rather the 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 75 
 
 ornament of a " meek and quiet spirit, which 
 in the sight of God is of great price."* 
 Confess to God the sinfulness of your heart; 
 look with faith to Jesus Christ his Son ; and 
 ask for pardon through his blood, which 
 cleanses from all sin : " If we confess our 
 sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our 
 sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteous- 
 ness. w t 
 
 * 1 Peter ill 4. f 1 John i. 7. 9. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IT was about two months after the party that 
 Mrs. Craven, one morning, called Margaret 
 into her dressing room, and said, " I have 
 had some news this morning which you 
 will like to hear, Margaret; guess what 
 it is." 
 
 Margaret looked up, wondering much what 
 it might be. Mrs. Craven went on : " I have 
 had a letter from your aunt Ellen, and she is 
 coming to see us." 
 
 Margaret burst into tears. 
 
 " Why, Margaret," said her mother, " what 
 a strange girl you are ; I thought you would 
 be so pleased." 
 
 " So I am," sobbed Margaret ; " but oh ! 
 mamma," she said, "I'm so afraid aunt 
 Ellen will never love me any more." 
 
 " Never love you any more, child ; why 
 
BEAUT r OP THE HEART. 77 
 
 what do you mean?" said her mother, 
 regarding her with a look of astonishment 
 
 "Not if you tell her how how wicked 
 I have been since I have been here, " said 
 Margaret, "and how Ada and I quarrel 
 sometimes." 
 
 " Then, why have you been so naughty ?" 
 said her mother ; " yes, you certainly do 
 behave badly, very badly sometimes, Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know," said Margaret, still 
 sobbing, " sometimes I can't help it ; but 
 you won't tell aunt Ellen, will you mamma ?' 
 
 "Not if you promise to behave better 
 for the future," said Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " I will, indeed I will," said Margaret, 
 throwing her arms round her mother's neck 
 and kissing her ; " oh ! thank you, mamma. 
 When will aunt Ellen come?" 
 
 " In a few weeks," replied Mrs. Craven. 
 "I believe you think a great deal more of 
 your aunt Ellen than you do of me, Margaret. 
 There, go away now, and do not make any 
 disturbances with Ada before she comes." 
 
 " She is a strange child," said the mother, 
 ii 3 
 
78 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 as Margaret closed the door after her, " and 
 certainly has more feeling than I supposed, 
 after all." 
 
 Margaret now made an abundance of good 
 resolutions, and determined so to behave during 
 her aunt's visit that she should be unable 
 to discover any alteration in her ; but, alas ! 
 these resolutions were made in her own 
 strength, consequently they were broken 
 almost as soon as formed, and every niglit 
 conscience told her of some fresh transgres- 
 sion, or some new violation of the rules 
 she had laid down for herself. 
 
 At length Mrs. Shirley arrived, and for 
 the first two or three days nothing occurred 
 to mar the happiness which their meeting 
 occasioned to both ; but as aunt Ellen became 
 by degrees to be more and more regarded 
 as one of the family, little circumstances 
 occurred now and then which induced her 
 to fear that things were not with Margaret 
 quite as she had hoped to find them. Ada 
 lost the desire of showing herself off to the 
 best advantage as to a stranger, and Margaret, 
 unaccustomed to appear before her aunt 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 79 
 
 as anything but what she really was, grew 
 careless in keeping the constant watch over 
 her words and actions which she had at 
 first done, and consequently often committed 
 herself in Mrs. Shirley's presence in ways 
 which she was afterwards sorry for. 
 
 Mrs. Shirley noticed all in silence. She 
 loved Margaret far too fondly to wish to 
 judge her harshly, or to blame her unde- 
 servedly, while this very love made her 
 most anxious, if she were indeed wrong, 
 to endeavour, as far as lay in her power, 
 to guide her once more in the path which 
 she so earnestly desired she might tread. 
 
 Mrs. Shirley had been in the house about 
 a week, when one morning, Miss Gregory 
 having, on account of her great attention, 
 dismissed Margaret a quarter of an hour 
 before Ada, she entered the library where 
 her aunt usually spent her mornings, and 
 with a pleased countenance said that she was 
 come to stay with her until luncheon time. 
 Mrs. Shirley, who was always glad to have 
 her by her side, was not less pleased; she 
 laid aside her book, and taking up her work, 
 
80 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 said, "Now then, Margaret, dear, we can 
 have a nice chat together; what is that you 
 are doing ? " 
 
 "It is a bead purse, aunty, which Miss 
 Gregory has taught me how to make ; do 
 you like it ? I am so fond of bead work." 
 
 " It is very pretty," said her aunt ; " is 
 the purse for your mamma ? " 
 
 " Oh no, not for mamma," replied Mar- 
 garet, "she has several purses. I cannot 
 tell you whom it is for yet, aunt Ellen," she 
 added, looking up with a smile. 
 
 They had not chatted thus many minutes, 
 before Susan entered the room and said, 
 " Miss Margaret, your mamma has sent me 
 to tell you that you have forgotten to put 
 any fresh flowers in the drawing-room, this 
 morning; and she expects some ladies to 
 call rather early to-day." 
 
 " Very well, Susan," replied Margaret, in 
 no very gracious tone. 
 
 " Shall I ask Robins to bring you in some 
 flower s. Miss ? " said Susan. 
 
 " No ; I like to get them myself best," 
 replied Margaret, in the same tone. She was 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 81 
 
 evidently put out by being sent to see about 
 flowers just then. Susan left the room. 
 
 " So it is still your task to arrange the 
 flowers, as it used to be at the Thatched 
 Cottage, Margaret," said her aunt. 
 
 "Yes," replied Margaret, still going on 
 with her bead-work, "Ada never does 
 them." 
 
 " You were always so fond of the employ- 
 ment yourself, Margaret," said Mrs. Shirley, 
 " that I should think you would hardly wish 
 to give it up to any one ; surely you have 
 not lost your taste for flowers in the midst 
 of this beautiful garden." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Margaret, " I like them 
 as" much as ever, but still I think Ada might 
 offer to help me, there are so many vases 
 and baskets to fill sometimes ; " and again 
 she went on with her work. In about five 
 minutes she looked up and caught the glance 
 of reproof from her aunt's eye, which had 
 once held such sway over her. She imme- 
 diately began to put up her things, but it 
 was full a quarter of an hour from the time 
 she received her mother's message before she 
 
82 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 left the room. In an hour she returned ; her 
 eyes were red and swollen with weeping. 
 
 " What is the matter, my love ? " said her 
 aunt, " you have been crying." 
 
 " Mamma has been so angry with me, aunt 
 Ellen," replied she, her tears again falling. 
 
 " Perhaps you deserved it, Margaret," said 
 Mrs. Shirley, very quietly. 
 
 "I could not help the flowers not being 
 ready," said Margaret ; " I only staid in the 
 hall a minute to play with the kitten, and 
 then somebody came, and went into the 
 drawing-room, and I could not get the vases, 
 and now mamma has been angry with me 
 about it." 
 
 " But you remained in this room more 
 than ten minutes after your mamma sent for 
 you, Margaret," said her aunt. 
 
 Margaret did not reply. Everything 
 seemed to go wrong with her for the 
 remainder of the day. Mrs. Shirley had 
 brought her a great many pieces for some 
 silk patchwork which she had begun, but 
 noticing that Ada was also busy making pin- 
 cushions and needle-books, she gave the packet 
 
BEAUTY OP THE HEART. 83 
 
 between them, saying, that they must divide 
 it themselves. They took it up into the 
 school-room, and that evening stood by the 
 table looking over its contents which were 
 spread out before them. Miss Gregory was 
 not there. 
 
 " I shall have that piece," cried Ada, 
 seizing a piece of bright blue brocade ; it will 
 just do to make a needle-book for my new 
 work-box." 
 
 "No, you cannot have that, Ada," said 
 Margaret, " I want it for my patchwork." 
 
 "But I will have it," retorted Ada, "it is 
 as much my right as yours." 
 
 "No, it is not," said Margaret; "aunt 
 Ellen did not mean you to have had any of 
 the pieces, at first, and you ought to be 
 contented with what I choose to give 
 you/' 
 
 "No, I ought not," returned Ada, "for 
 aunt Ellen said we were to divide them 
 fairly between us, and if you do not let me 
 have that piece,* I will go and tell her this 
 very minute." 
 
 " I don't care," said Margaret, " you may 
 
84 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 tell her if you like ; " and she snatched 
 the disputed piece from Ada's hand ; and as 
 she did so she turned towards the door, 
 and there, to her astonishment, in the open 
 doorway stood Mrs. Shirley. If ever Mar- 
 garet felt utterly ashamed of herself she did 
 at that moment ; she would not have cared 
 half so much if it had been her mother ; she 
 would have looked very angry, have scolded 
 her for not letting Ada have the silk, and 
 there would have been an end of it, but 
 her aunt Ellen did not look angry she 
 never did look angry ; neither did she speak 
 one word of blame, she only took hold of 
 her hand and led her out into the garden. 
 
 Margaret walked tremblingly along, ex- 
 pecting every moment that her aunt would 
 say something; but, on the contrary, she 
 began to talk about the flowers, and so 
 Margaret comforted herself with the idea 
 that she had either not witnessed the quarrel, 
 or else that she considered that Ada was 
 wrong and she right. 
 
 Mrs. Shirley occasionally begged permis- 
 sion of Miss Gregory to sit in the school-room 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 85 
 
 for an hour or two in the morning, saying that 
 it gave her great pleasure to watch her little 
 nieces at their studies. It was Margaret's 
 week to arrange the table. Ada was looking 
 over her lessons, which she never learned till 
 the last moment. Mrs. Shirley came in with 
 her knitting in her hand and took her seat 
 at the window; Miss Gregory not being 
 very well that morning, had not yet joined 
 them. 
 
 " Ada," said Margaret, taking up Ada's 
 slate as she placed the books on the table, 
 " there is your sum not done, nor your 
 exercise either." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Ada, " what shall 
 I do ? I do not quite know my lessons, and 
 that foolish exercise, I shall never get it done, 
 and Miss Gregory said I should not go down 
 to dessert if there were a single mistake in 
 it, and she will be here in a minute." For- 
 tunately for Ada, however, Miss Gregory 
 did not come quite so soon; she had time 
 to finish her sum, but the exercise, which 
 was one in geography, seemed to puzzle her 
 beyond everything. Margaret saw her turn 
 
86 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 over first one leaf of her atlas and then 
 another in her bewilderment, but she had 
 no objection that her aunt Ellen should see 
 how superior she was to Ada in some 
 respects, and knowing that if left to herself 
 the exercise would be full of mistakes, she 
 took no notice of her troubled countenance, 
 but pretended to be very deeply engaged 
 in learning a French verb, which she knew 
 quite well the night before. 
 
 "You seem to be in great perplexity, 
 Ada," said Mrs. Shirley, after a while, it 
 is some time since I have written an exercise, 
 but, perhaps, if you bring your books and 
 slate to me I may be able to help you a 
 little." 
 
 t Oh, thank you, aunt Ellen," said Ada ; 
 "I cannot tell which map to look in for 
 these rivers." But aunt Ellen happened to 
 be able to tell ; and so in a very short time 
 the exercise was completed. 
 
 Notwithstanding that her lessons were per- 
 fectly learned, and all her tasks performed 
 entirely to Miss Gregory's satisfaction, Mar- 
 garet did not feel comfortable, or at all 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 87 
 
 satisfied with herself that morning; some- 
 thing in her aunt's manner towards her told 
 her that she had noticed more than Margaret 
 wished her to see. For some days, indeed, 
 ever since the affair of filling the flower vases, 
 she had had a sort of dread which she had 
 never felt before of being left alone with her ; 
 but as time passed on, and, though several 
 other incidents of the same kind occurred, 
 no notice was taken of them, she began to 
 feel less uneasy, and to think, as she wished 
 to persuade herself was the case, that her 
 aunt saw plainly that these little disagree- 
 ments arose entirely from Ada's selfishness 
 and bad temper. She did not know that 
 all this time Mrs, Shirley was carefully 
 studying the position in which she saw her 
 placed, in order that she might, without being 
 severe or unjust, endeavour the more effec- 
 tually to use the influence which she felt she 
 still possessed over her, in correcting those 
 faults and blemishes in her character which 
 every day made more apparent to her view, 
 and more painful to her to witness. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 MRS. SHIRLEY'S visit was fast drawing to a 
 close, but as yet she had said nothing 
 which could lead Margaret to suppose that 
 she had discovered the change which had 
 crept over her. But nothing is more diffi- 
 cult than dissimulation to those who have 
 always been accustomed to act only as 
 they feel. It was so with Margaret, and 
 frequently, when she was not at all aware 
 that she did so, words, looks, and actions 
 escaped her, of which, had she thought for 
 a moment, she would have been ashamed, 
 but which did not pass unnoticed by the 
 eye of affection which was now again daily 
 watching over her. One day Mrs. Craven 
 was going out to make some calls, and 
 intended to take Margaret and Ada with 
 her, but as her aunt Ellen was not very well, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 89 
 
 Margaret petitioned to be allowed instead to 
 remain at home with her. They chatted 
 pleasantly awhile about old times, for Mar- 
 garet was never tired of making inquiries, 
 and listening to anecdotes of every person 
 and thing, animate or inanimate, which she 
 had left behind in her " other home," as she 
 always called the Thatched Cottage. 
 
 " And my myrtle by the drawing-room 
 window, is that growing, aunt Ellen ? " said 
 she, after she had inquired about the welfare 
 of almost every flower in the garden; "oh 
 dear ! I wonder if I shall ever see it again." 
 
 " I hope so, my darling," replied Mrs. 
 Shirley, (i if it please God to spare you and 
 me both for another year, I hope you will 
 come and stay with me." 
 
 " Oh, aunt Ellen, how glad I shall be ! Do 
 you think mamma will let me stay for a 
 long time ? " 
 
 " I hope so," replied her aunt ; " are you 
 sure that you shall be glad to come, Mar- 
 garet?" 
 
 " Oh, aunty ! how can you ask me, " said 
 Margaret, " when I love you so ? " 
 
 i 3 
 
90 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " Because, dear Margaret, I have thought 
 sometimes, since I have been here, that you 
 do not love me now so well as you once did ; 
 if you did, I think you would not so often do 
 things which you know must grieve me," 
 -said Mrs. Shirley. 
 
 A sort of chill came over Margaret ; her 
 eyes fell as she answered in a low voice, " I 
 have not meant to grieve you, aunt Ellen." 
 
 " But I have been grieved, much grieved, 
 Margaret, nevertheless, at many things which 
 I have seen," replied her aunt. 
 
 " I know what you mean, aunt Ellen ; you 
 mean about the flowers that day, and the 
 pieces of silk, and Ada's exercise." 
 
 "Yes, I certainly noticed these things 
 among others, but Margaret, dear, it is not 
 only the actions themselves which have 
 grieved me, it is the change which I fear 
 must have come over your heart to produce 
 them. I am afraid, my love, that you have 
 forgotten or much neglected your promise 
 to me that you would strive earnestly to be 
 one of God's children, and to serve and 
 please him." 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 91 
 
 Margaret's heart was touched ; she burst 
 into tears, and throwing her arms round 
 Mrs. Shirley's neck, exclaimed, " Oh ! aunt 
 Ellen, you don't know how wicked I have 
 been, for this long time ; if you did, I don't 
 think you would ever love me again." 
 
 " I should love you, my child, the same 
 as ever," said Mrs. Shirley tenderly, and 
 drawing Margaret towards her as she spoke ; 
 " come, now, and tell me how all this has 
 come about, and how it is that you are not 
 quite the same Margaret that you once 
 were." 
 
 " Oh, aunt Ellen, I do not know how to 
 begin," said Margaret, wiping away her 
 tears; "everything is so different here to 
 what it was when I was with you ; it does 
 not seem as if I could be good." 
 
 " You mean, my love, that you have more 
 temptations now to do wrong than you had 
 when you were with me ; but remember, 
 Margaret, there is no sin in being tempted ; 
 the sin is when we give way to the temp- 
 tation." 
 
 " Yes, I know that," said Margaret, " but 
 
92 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 Ada is so domineering, and vexes and teases 
 me so sometimes; and then " 
 
 " And then you feel that you like to vex 
 and tease her in return." 
 
 " Yes/' replied Margaret half reluctantly, 
 " I did not at first ; I used to help her and 
 give way to her very often, and then we 
 did not disagree nearly so much ; but nobody 
 took any notice or seemed to think it was 
 good of me, and so I grew tired at last of 
 caring to keep friends with her." 
 
 "Then you did good, not so much for 
 the sake of pleasing God as from the desire 
 to get praises for it, was that it, Margaret ? " 
 
 Margaret was silent for a moment, then 
 she said, " I suppose it was, aunt Ellen ; but 
 I did not think about it ; yet I did try to be 
 good very often ; but somehow I always got 
 bad again." 
 
 " Perhaps, Margaret, you tried to be good 
 in your own strength ; perhaps you did not 
 feel that you needed help, and forgot to 
 ask God for the aid of his Holy Spirit to 
 strengthen you in what was right; and 
 perhaps sometimes you resisted his pleadings, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 93 
 
 and went on doing what was wrong in spite 
 of the gentle voice within you, telling you 
 that it was so." 
 
 Margaret's heart once opened, she told 
 her aunt, with all the freedom of by-gone 
 days, and without the least attempt either 
 at concealment or self-justification, of the 
 many difficulties she had had to contend 
 with, and of her many backslidings ; how 
 she had at first begun by giving way to 
 small temptations to do wrong, then to 
 greater ones, until at length she had grown 
 quite careless and negligent, as to whether 
 what she did was right or not. 
 
 " And have you gone on reading your 
 Bible, all this time, Margaret,'" said Mrs. 
 Shirley, rt looking and trusting to Christ for 
 pardon, and praying for God's help and 
 guidance ? " 
 
 " No, aunt Ellen," replied Margaret, sor- 
 rowfully ; " I did read and pray at first, 
 but Ada teased me so, and laughed at me, 
 and told papa, and he laughed at me too, 
 and called me queer names, and mamma 
 said that the Bible was too difficult for me 
 
94 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 to understand; and then I began to read 
 a little less and a little less, till at last I 
 did not read it at all sometimes, excepting a 
 little bit on Sundays just to say that I had 
 read it, when Ada was out of the way ; 
 and then I said my prayers much quicker, 
 and did not try to think about them, and 
 what I should ask God for, as I used to do." 
 Mrs. Shirley saw the difficult position in 
 which poor Margaret was placed; she hesi- 
 tated a moment, and prayed silently that 
 she might answer wisely ; then she said, " I 
 see how it is, Margaret dear; you have 
 indeed many more temptations to do wrong 
 than you once had, but you must try to over- 
 come them. You must ask God to help you 
 not to mind being laughed at, and to enable 
 you to bear with humility and meekness 
 whatever may be said to you. Your papa 
 and mamma, dear Margaret, think differently 
 from me on these subjects, but you must 
 not on that account love and honour them 
 the less ; all that you can do at present is 
 to pray that God will bless them, and lead 
 them to love him, and by the meekness, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 95 
 
 gentleness, and humility of your own con- 
 duct, to show them the beauty of the 
 religion of that Saviour whose child you 
 would seek to be." 
 
 "I do love papa and mamma," said 
 Margaret; "I know that I ought to love 
 them better than anybody, for papa, though 
 he does laugh at me, is very kind, and 
 buys me a great many things, and so does 
 mamma; but I know they love Ada better 
 than they do me, and I cannot help loving 
 you better than I do them, aunt Ellen, I 
 cannot indeed ; is it wicked of me ? I would 
 not tell anybody but you." 
 
 ff I do not think that it is wicked, my 
 love," replied Mrs. Shirley; "you have 
 not yet lived with your papa and mamma 
 so long as you did with me; when you 
 have you may love them quite as dearly." 
 
 " Still," said Margaret, " I do wish I might 
 come back and live with you again at the 
 Thatched Cottage ; I was much happier then, 
 though we had not a carriage and a pony, and 
 so many fine things ; I could come often and 
 see papa and mamma, and Ada, you know." 
 
96 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " You must not wish that, dear Margaret ; 
 for however much I might like to have you, 
 I know that it is neither right nor natural 
 that you should be separated from your 
 parents and sister, even if they would permit 
 it, which I am quite sure they would not. 
 Besides, Margaret, you must remember that 
 God places us all in those stations which 
 it is best for us to occupy ; if it were not 
 for some right and good purpose, you would 
 not be here with difficulties to overcome, 
 and temptations to withstand, any more than 
 I should be living alone in the Thatched 
 Cottage, often regretting that you are not 
 still there, to help me make clothes for the 
 poor people, in the long winter evenings, or 
 to go on Sunday afternoons to read the Bible 
 to poor old Goody." 
 
 Margaret smiled at this allusion to her 
 old friend, and said, " Aunty, I wish I had 
 something to send Goody when you go back." 
 
 " Well, cannot you buy her something ? I 
 recollect that before you came, you were 
 afraid that you should have too much pocket 
 money ; liow have you spent it ? " 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 97 
 
 " Well, at first, " said Margaret, " I began 
 to save it, and thought I would give some 
 to an old woman who weeds in the garden, 
 to buy her a new gown ; but Ada laughed 
 at me, and mamma said that she would give 
 her a new gown if she wanted one, and then 
 I thought I would still save it up for the 
 Missionary Society without saying a word 
 to anybody, but somehow 1 did not do it, 
 and I have spent it every week ever since ; 
 that was not right either, was it, aunt Ellen ? " 
 
 "You had power to do as you pleased 
 with your own, my love," replied her aunt ; 
 " still I think that if you had applied a part 
 of your money, at least, to good or useful 
 purposes, instead of spending the whole 
 on yourself, you would have done right and 
 have felt more satisfaction ; what have you 
 bought with it?" 
 
 <c Only little things that I don't care any- 
 thing about ; and now I have not even one 
 shilling to send poor old Goody," she added 
 mournfully ; " but I won't do it again, aunt 
 Ellen; I will save it until I come to see 
 you, if I cannot find any thing else to do 
 
98 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 with it, and then you will -help me to spend 
 it, won't you ? " 
 
 "I daresay I shall feel no objection," 
 replied Mrs. Shirley, smiling, " but perhaps 
 you may be able to find something else to 
 do with it before then." 
 
CHAPTEE IX, 
 
 IT is by no means so easy, when we have 
 carelessly wandered into a wrong path, to 
 retrace our steps, as it would have been, 
 even though the task had proved one of 
 labour and difficulty, to have kept in the 
 narrow road from the first. Margaret found 
 that it was even so with her ; had she kept 
 on steadily as she first began, she would have 
 met with far fewer difficulties than now beset 
 her steps when she again set forward. Ada 
 was less inclined to love her, and to think 
 favourably of her than, notwithstanding her 
 many spoiled and selfish ways, she had once 
 been. Miss Gregory, though she liked 
 Margaret as an attentive and clever pupil, 
 took little or no interest in the moral or 
 religious training of those committed to her 
 care, and was, therefore, not at all likely 
 
100 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 either to understand or to assist her in the 
 struggles with herself, in which she was again 
 so often engaged. Her father saw but little, 
 and knew less of her, while her mother, in 
 whose heart Ada undoubtedly held the first 
 place, quite lost sight, in the remembrance 
 of their former disagreements, and the 
 unkindnesses of which her darling had so 
 often complained, of the daily efforts which 
 Margaret was now making to please and 
 obey her, not only as regarded Ada, but in 
 many other little ways, which, though hardly 
 worth speaking of, would yet have shown, to 
 a careful observer, the goodness and purity 
 of motive which gave rise to them. 
 
 Thus weeks and months rolled on, bring- 
 ing, as far as outward appearances went, but 
 little change in Margaret's daily life, what- 
 ever change there was in herself. Day by 
 day she was learning, though by slow de- 
 grees, to see how sinful and weak she was, 
 and therefore to trust less to her own un- 
 aided strength, to seek more and more for 
 Divine teaching, and to lean more and more 
 upon the Divine arm for help and guidance. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 101 
 
 At first she found it very difficult to keep a 
 constant watch over herself, to do those 
 things which she ought to do, and to keep 
 from doing those things which she ought not 
 to do; often, sometimes consciously, some- 
 times almost without knowing it, did she 
 find herself giving way to old tempers and 
 feelings. Sometimes Ada would say unkind 
 and cutting things, and Margaret would feel 
 as if nothing would be so pleasant as to 
 retort, and sometimes when she had tried her 
 utmost to quell her rising passion, and to 
 give a soft answer or a kind action in return, 
 Ada would attribute it to some wrong or 
 bad motive, or receive ungraciously all her 
 attempts at conciliation, even when she knew 
 that she, and not Margaret, was in the 
 wrong. And yet, in spite of this, there were 
 times when Ada could not help feeling that 
 she was unjust towards Margaret, and could 
 not help liking her far better than she had 
 once done. Ada's disposition was not natu- 
 rally unkind, but unhappily it had been 
 quite spoiled and rendered selfish by the 
 unbounded indulgence in which she had been 
 
 K3 
 
102 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 brought up. Occasionally, when she was 
 in a better mood, she would thank Margaret 
 for any little assistance bestowed on her 
 in her studies, or otherwise, and these few 
 words sounded so pleasantly that Margaret 
 at such times began to feel towards Ada 
 quite differently, and to make allowances 
 for her which at one time she would never 
 have thought of. 
 
 But Margaret had other sore trials; she 
 still had to see Ada caressed, admired, 
 and flattered, by all, while she was often 
 passed by unnoticed. She still had to hear 
 those things which she had always been 
 taught to hold most dear and sacred, and 
 which she knew were right and good, made 
 light of, or turned into jest and ridicule, 
 while she must sit by and hear all but say 
 nothing. Often in the silent watches of the 
 night she would lie and think of these things, 
 then of her aunt Ellen, and of how different her 
 life had been passed with her, until her pillow 
 was wet with tears, and then she would lift 
 up her heart, in the name of Jesus Christ, 
 to her Father in heaven, beseeching him to be 
 
hi : <??^ 
 
 LETTER OF INVITATION. 
 
 103 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 105 
 
 her friend ; and at length comforted by the 
 thought that he was her friend, would fall 
 into sweet and refreshing slumber. 
 
 One day there came an invitation from a 
 lady, an old and valued friend of their 
 father's, for either Margaret or Ada to go 
 and spend a few days at her house. She 
 did not name which it was to be in her note, 
 saying that, as it was only convenient to her 
 to have one at a time, they must settle 
 between them which should come first Ada, 
 who invariably thought of herself before any 
 one else, immediately begged that she might 
 go, but her father, who was always par- 
 ticular that in such cases Margaret should 
 enjoy her right of precedence as the eldest, 
 and who happened at that moment to be 
 in the room, at once decided against Ada. 
 
 " No, Ada," said he, " you must not expect 
 Margaret always to give up to you ; she is 
 the eldest, and will certainly go to Mrs. 
 Ward's first so say nothing more about it" 
 
 Mr. Craven did not often speak so de- 
 cidedly to Ada ; when he did she knew that 
 further dispute was useless. With a pout on 
 
106 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 her lip, and a cloud on her brow, she went 
 off up stairs. In a short time Margaret went 
 up too. As she passed along the passage she 
 heard Ada's voice from their bed-room, the 
 door of which stood open. Ada was standing 
 with her back to it while Susan was smooth- 
 ing out her hair. " I think Margaret might 
 have offered to let me go first," said she in 
 a voice which told that she was half crying, 
 " it couldn't signify to her and I wanted to 
 go so very much." 
 
 Margaret did not pause to hear Susan's 
 reply, but passed on to the school-room. 
 No one was there, and she sat down to think. 
 In about five minutes she again went down 
 to the library where she had left her father 
 and mother. " Papa," said she, going up to 
 him, Sf do you think Mrs. Ward would mind 
 whether Ada or I went this time ? " 
 
 " What do you mean, Meggie ? " said he, 
 taking her hand. 
 
 "I mean, papa, do you think she would 
 mind if Ada went this time and I the next, 
 instead of my going first and Ada afterwards?" 
 
 " No, I think she would not, if you would 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 107 
 
 rather it be so ; but what does mamma say ?" 
 said he, looking across at Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " Don't you wish to go, Margaret ? " said 
 her mamma ; " I think it is very ungrateful 
 of you," 
 
 " I didn't mean to be ungrateful, mamma," 
 replied Margaret, a flush coming over her 
 face, " but I know Ada wants to go very 
 much this time if you will let her." 
 
 " Well, you are certainly a very odd girl, 
 Margaret," said her mamma; "but if your 
 papa does not object to it you may settle it 
 between you." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma," said Margaret, 
 and with a kiss from Mr. Craven she flew off 
 upstairs. 
 
 " Margaret is certainly one of the strangest 
 children I ever knew," remarked her mother 
 as she left the room ; " there is no under- 
 standing her ; now what motive in the world 
 she can have for wishing Ada to go instead 
 of herself I cannot imagine." 
 
 "I believe it is nothing but pure good 
 nature which actuates her," replied Mr. 
 Craven. 
 
108 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said his wife ; " children are 
 not quite so fond of making sacrifices for one 
 another, depend upon it; however, she may 
 do as she likes, for I know there would be no 
 peace in the house with Ada if Margaret 
 went first." 
 
 But it was a sacrifice nevertheless, little as 
 Mrs. Craven could understand it ; for Mrs. 
 Ward was one of the few people visiting at 
 her father's house whom Margaret really 
 liked. She had been an early friend of 
 her aunt Ellen's, and from this cause, as well 
 as from a liking which she had taken to 
 Margaret, always took particular notice of 
 her, showing her many little kindnesses, 
 for which Margaret could not help feeling 
 grateful and loving her. When she entered 
 the school-room, Ada was there, looking the 
 very picture of discontent. "Ada," said 
 she, going up to her, "you are to go to Mrs. 
 Ward's." 
 
 Ada's eyes sparkled. " Who said so ? " 
 she replied ; "we are not both to go, are 
 we?" 
 
 " No," said Margaret, " but you are to go 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 109 
 
 first, instead of me ; I have been asking 
 papa and mamma, and they say you may." 
 
 "But don't you want to go, Margaret?" 
 said Ada, waking a little from her selfishness. 
 
 " Yes ; but I do not mind whether I go 
 now or afterwards," replied Margaret. 
 
 " Are you sure you do not mind ? " 
 said Ada. 
 
 " Yes, quite sure," said Margaret, and the 
 bright smile which came over her face 
 showed that she spoke the truth. Ada's 
 proud little heart felt at first as if she could 
 hardly condescend to thank her, but a better 
 feeling came over her, and going to her sister 
 she put her face as though she would kiss 
 her, and said in a humble tone, " I am very 
 much obliged to you, Margaret; it is very kind 
 of you to let me go first." The tears were 
 in Margaret's eyes ; she put her arms round 
 her, and thought the kisses which Ada gave 
 her the most welcome she had ever received 
 in her life. Truly, at that moment, Margaret 
 felt that it is indeed, " more blessed to give 
 than to receive." 
 
 The next day being a holiday, she spent 
 
110 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 nearly all the morning in helping Susan to 
 look out and pack up Ada's things. 
 
 " Dear Miss Margaret," said Susan, "I am 
 sure I don't know when I should have got 
 these things done if you had not have helped 
 me so ; Miss Ada's clothes do want so much 
 looking over and mending, but there, you 
 are so good always." 
 
 "No, I am not good, Susan," replied 
 Margaret, " you must not say that." 
 
 " Well then, Miss, if you are not good, I 
 should like to know who is," said Susan ; 
 " I should just like to know whether Miss 
 Ada would have given up to you about 
 going out, as you have to her." 
 
 "Perhaps she would not have thought 
 of it, Susan," replied Margaret, exchanging 
 a sash, from Ada's box, for one of her own, 
 which was much better. 
 
 " Perhaps she would not have done it if 
 she had," said Susan, bluntly ; " no, no, 
 Miss Margaret, after all you can say, 
 Miss Ada isn't over fond of giving up to 
 anybody ; she isn't over kind to you either, 
 Miss, sometimes." 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. Ill 
 
 " She is kinder than she used to be, 
 Susan," said Margaret ; " besides, you must 
 remember that Ada had always been like 
 the eldest, so it was no wonder she did not 
 like it when I first came." 
 
 " Well, and I suppose you always had 
 been the eldest, Miss Margaret," persisted 
 Susan, with whom Margaret was a great 
 favourite ; " but there, it's no use talking, 
 I know you always like to make excuses 
 for everybody if you can." 
 
 While Ada was away Margaret used her 
 utmost endeavours to do everything which 
 she thought would please her % father and 
 mother, and succeeded so well that her 
 mamma, one day, showed her a new cotton 
 gown, which she said she had bought for 
 Nancy White, and which she intended 
 Margaret, as a reward for her good behaviour, 
 to have the pleasure of giving to the old 
 woman the next time she came to weed 
 in the garden. Margaret would much rather 
 that she had bought it with her own pocket 
 money, but still it was a pleasure to her 
 to give it, after all. Her father, too, said 
 
112 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 she had been so merry, and had laughed 
 so often, that he had hardly missed Ada 
 at all. 
 
 Ada returned wonderfully delighted ' with 
 her visit, but as Margaret listened to her 
 glowing accounts of the pleasures she had 
 enjoyed, instead of being envious, or regret- 
 ting what she had missed, she felt that 
 in her endeavours to make others happy, 
 she had herself grown happy too, and that 
 within her heart had risen sweet, though 
 hidden, springs of enjoyment, which no 
 external circumstances could destroy, and 
 with which the fleeting pleasures of which 
 Ada too often thought so much would bear 
 no comparison. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " WELL, my little sober-face, and what was 
 the sermon about this morning?" s*aid Mr. 
 Craven to Margaret, as she sat by his side 
 one Sunday evening after dinner. 
 
 " About a great many things, papa," was 
 Margaret's reply. 
 
 "Well, but what was the text? I sup- 
 pose text and sermon are always pretty 
 much alike, are they not?" 
 
 Margaret looked in his face to see if he 
 really meant her to tell him the text, and 
 as he appeared serious she replied, " It was 
 in Matthew, papa, the seventeenth chapter 
 and the fourth verse, 'It is good for us 
 to be here.'" 
 
 " Good for us to be here ; that is rather 
 an cdd text, I think," said he, " and I doubt 
 whether you are always of that opinion, 
 
 L3 
 
114 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 Margaret; it strikes me that now and then 
 you would think it much better to be with 
 that aunt Ellen of yours than here, eh ? " 
 
 c( I should like to be with her very much 
 sometimes, papa ; but I like to be here with 
 you too. Besides, aunt Ellen says that it 
 is best for me, and that I ought not to 
 wish to be with her." 
 
 " What ! not to make frocks and jackets 
 for ragged children, and then teach them 
 to read and sing psalms ? 1 am quite sur- 
 prised at aunt Ellen quite ashamed of her." 
 
 In this bantering way he went on for 
 some time, Mrs. Craven and Miss Gregory 
 occasionally joining in a laugh at Margaret's 
 expense. At length something was said 
 which she thought touched her aunt Ellen 
 too closely ; she could not bear it any longer, 
 but, bursting into tears, ran out of the room. 
 
 " We have been a little too hard upon 
 her," said Mr. Craven, after a while, " and 
 it strikes me that Margaret is not one to be 
 laughed out of anything ; 1 must go and 
 find her, and make my peace with her." 
 
 She was sitting alone in the school-room, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 115 
 
 still weeping. He really loved her tenderly, 
 and was sorry for having thus wounded her 
 feelings. He sat down, and took her hand, 
 saying, " Come, come, Meggie dear, wipe 
 away these tears ; I did not mean to make 
 you cry; your aunt Ellen is a dear good 
 woman, and nobody shall ever say a word 
 against her. You are quite right to love 
 her as you do, only I did not like to see 
 you put on a serious face; I like you to 
 laugh and be merry." 
 
 " It is not aunt Ellen that makes me have 
 a serious face, papa." 
 
 " No, no ; but you see she sets you to 
 Bible reading, and that sort of thing, which 
 is not fit for a little girl like you, and that 
 makes you look serious; you have been 
 reading the Bible this afternoon, I know, 
 but I do not believe you have understood 
 what you read." 
 
 "Not all of it, papa," said Marga- 
 ret. 
 
 " No, of course not ; religion is all very 
 right, you know, for people when they get old 
 enough, but it is not fit for such young 
 
116 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 tilings as you and Ada to trouble your- 
 selves about." 
 
 "But, papa, everybody does not live to 
 be old," said Margaret. 
 
 " No, but a great many do ; at all events, 
 I think you and Ada will ; see what rosy 
 cheeks she has, and yours are much fatter 
 and of a better colour than they were." 
 
 Margaret did not answer, but as her 
 father kissed her, and took her hand to lead 
 her down .stairs again, a little hymn, which 
 her aunt had once taught her, came into 
 her mind. 
 
 " "Within the churchyard, side by side, 
 
 Are many long, low graves, 
 And some have stones set over them 
 On some the green grass waves. 
 
 "Full many a little Christian child, 
 
 Woman and man lie there, 
 And we pass by them every time, 
 "When we go in to prayer. 
 
 " Thry cannot hear our footsteps come, 
 
 They do not see us pass, 
 They cannot feel the bright warm sun 
 That shines upon the grass. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 117 
 
 44 They do not hear when the great bell 
 
 Is ringing over head; 
 They cannot rise and come to church 
 With us for they are dead." 
 
 It was not many weeks after this circum- 
 stance, that Margaret and Ada one evening 
 had a little party at home, consisting of the 
 young people of about their own age, whom 
 they knew in the neighbourhood. Ada, as 
 usual, danced until she made herself exces- 
 sively hot, and not knowing how to get 
 cool again, went and stood by an open 
 window in the conservatory, which adjoined 
 the drawing-room. Margaret, who was 
 sensible enough to know that this was very 
 unwise, went to her and said 
 
 "Do not stand here, Ada, you will take 
 cold, you are so very hot." 
 
 "No I shall not," said Ada, "and this wind 
 is so delightful; do let me alone, Margaret." 
 
 "Then have a shawl to put on," said 
 Margaret; "I know mamma would not 
 let you stay if she were here." 
 
 " But mamma is not here," said the self- 
 willed Ada; " there, I won't stay more 
 
118 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 than another minute, Margaret, if you will 
 only go away." 
 
 Margaret went away, but Ada staid until 
 she was as she said nice and cool, and 
 then went back and danced again. In a 
 few days she had a violent cold and cough ; 
 her mother wondered how she could have 
 taken it. She was well nursed, and in two 
 or three weeks appeared quite well, except- 
 ing that the cough never entirely left her ; 
 the doctor, however, said that, it would go 
 away in the spring, especially if they were 
 to take her to Devonshire or the Isle of 
 Wight. Mr. Craven, who from being 
 much in India enjoyed a warmer climate 
 himself, determined on spending the summer 
 in one of these places, and finally fixed 
 upon Devonshire. Ada's cough soon left 
 her, but Margaret was disappointed of her 
 promised visit to the Thatched Cottage. 
 This she bore as well as she could, especially 
 after being informed by her aunt, in one of 
 her letters, that she should very probably 
 join them for a short time in Devonshire 
 before they returned home. She did so, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 119 
 
 and on the whole Margaret had no reason 
 to be dissatisfied with the enjoyment which 
 the summer had afforded her- 
 
 They returned home towards the end of 
 September, Ada appearing to be in perfect 
 health and looking more blooming and 
 beautiful than ever. About the middle of 
 October, cold winds set in, and her cough, 
 without any apparent cause, returned. At 
 first she coughed only two or three times a 
 clay, then more frequently, then it began to 
 trouble her occasionally in the night, until 
 at length her mother, when the frost came-, 
 ordered a fire in her bed room ; but even 
 then it was no better, and sometimes Margaret 
 would get up four or five times to give 
 her things to ease it. Her mother began 
 to feel a little anxious about her, for some- 
 times, when she came down of a morning, 
 she looked thin and pale ; but she said she 
 was quite well, and towards evening her 
 colour would return, and she would seem 
 as bright and lively as ever, and then Mrs. 
 Craven .would look at her sparkling eyes 
 and feel angry with herself for having 
 
120 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 fancied that anything could be the matter 
 with her. But about Christmas time the 
 weather became intensely cold, and Ada, 
 in addition to her cough, began to grow 
 languid, and to complain of an occasional 
 pain in her chest and side. A doctor was 
 called in: he did not say what was the 
 matter with her, but Ada thought there 
 was no end to the questions he asked her, 
 and the orders he gave that she should never 
 go out in the cold air, not even in the 
 carriage. 
 
 Margaret was always a light sleeper, and 
 before long Ada's cough woke her more 
 frequently than ever ; still Mrs. Craven, who 
 could not bear the idea of her darling being 
 really ill, comforted herself with the idea 
 that it was only a cough, and that when 
 warmer weather came it would go away. 
 Before the weather grew warmer, however, 
 Ada grew much worse, and although her 
 appetite was good, and the pain in her 
 chest less frequent, there was no mistaking 
 her short breathing, and thin wasted form, 
 for any other symptoms than those of real 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 121 
 
 illness. Sometimes she was confined for a 
 whole day to the sofa, and her mother's 
 looks would tell how anxious she felt ; but 
 then, if any little excitement came, she would 
 brighten up and seem almost well again, and 
 then Mrs. Craven would smile at her fears, 
 and once more declare that after all it was 
 " only a cough." 
 
 One morning (Ada had been very ill that 
 night) Margaret happened to go down stairs 
 just as the doctor was going out ; he shook 
 hands with her, and told her that she must 
 take all the care she could of her sister. 
 
 " Will Ada get well soon, sir ? " she asked. 
 
 " People can never get well in such cold 
 weather as this, Miss Margaret," said he, 
 shivering as a cold gust blew in at the 
 open door ; " wait till the violets and night- 
 ingales come, and I will tell you another 
 story then. Good bye," he added, nodding 
 and smiling, " you will get cold yourself if 
 you stand here, and then I shall have two 
 patients instead of one ; " and he closed the 
 door behind him. Margaret passed on into 
 the breakfast room ; her mother was sitting 
 
 M 
 
122 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 by the fire weeping. t She stood still for a 
 moment, not knowing whether to advance 
 or not. 
 
 " Go away, Margaret," said Mrs. Craven, 
 without looking up. 
 
 " Mamma," said Margaret, tf is there any- 
 thing the matter, anything about Ada; 
 will she be better soon?" 
 
 " Yes, I hope so," replied her mother, 
 " go upstairs, Margaret." 
 
 Margaret would have given worlds to 
 have thrown herself upon her mother's neck . 
 and have wept with her, but she obeyed 
 her and left the room, and from that moment 
 the thought took possession of her mind 
 that Ada would die. When she went alone 
 into the drawing-room in the evening for 
 Ada was too poorly to leave her bed at 
 all that day she saw that her mamma had 
 again been weeping, and that her papa looked 
 sad and serious. He began to talk about 
 going into Devonshire again, and said he 
 wondered how soon the doctor would con- 
 sider Ada fit to bear the journey. For 
 the next few days, however, the little invalid 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 123 
 
 was so much better, that he laughed and 
 said he was sure, after all, the doctor had 
 raised a false alarm; but the improvement 
 was only transient, and at length poor Ada 
 was confined entirely to her own room, the 
 medical attendant forbidding, until the 
 weather became warmer, even the slight 
 change of atmosphere which she would 
 experience in going down stairs. 
 
 No word \vas ever breathed before her 
 as to the possibility of her not getting well 
 again ; on the contrary, her recovery was 
 spoken of by every one as certain. Her 
 father would come in and lay plans about 
 what they would do, as soon as she was 
 woll enough to go into Devonshire; and 
 her mother, thinking to amuse her, would 
 encourage her to talk about new frocks, 
 and ribbons, and bonnets, and sometimes 
 her eye would sparkle, and her cheek grow 
 bright, as of old ; but at others she would 
 listen languidly, and appear restless, unin- 
 terested, and uneasy. Margaret often won- 
 dered whether her papa and mamma really 
 thought that Ada would get better, or 
 
124 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 whether she thought so herself, but she 
 never said anything, indeed the idea of death 
 seemed almost too awful for her even to 
 think of to herself, much more to speak 
 about to others. 
 
 On account of Ada's illness their Christ- 
 mas holidays had been lengthened consider- 
 ably, Mr. Craven not thinking it worth 
 while for Miss Gregory to return as long 
 as she was so ill, and Margaret therefore 
 spent much of her time in her sister's room. 
 She liked to be with Ada, although, poor 
 child, she was often very pettish, impatient, 
 and fractious, finding fault with things which 
 were done only with the view of giving her 
 ease and comfort. Even Susan, though most 
 good natured, could not at times refrain from 
 being a little put out by her constant mur- 
 murings. But Margaret was never put out ; 
 she would listen patiently to all her com- 
 plaints, getting her everything she asked 
 for, not only without murmuring at the 
 trouble she gave her, but with such readi- 
 ness and cheerfulness, that Ada, much 
 accustomed as she was to indulgence, could 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 125 
 
 not help noticing it to herself. Margaret 
 did not know this until one day, when Susan 
 did something which did not please Ada, 
 she heard her say, "You are not a bit 
 like Margaret, Susan ; she never grumbles 
 at me, and never scolds me. I like her to 
 cut my oranges for me a great deal better 
 than you." The tears came into Margaret's 
 eyes at this testimony which Ada was not 
 at all ' aware that she heard ; after that, it 
 was a pleasure to her to comply even with 
 her most unreasonable demands ; she was 
 always at hand whenever Ada wanted her, 
 and seemed, by a sort of instinct, to know 
 better than any one else, how to manage 
 her, and how to amuse her, when she wanted 
 amusement. She was the only one who 
 did not keep constantly telling her that 
 she would get \vell; but Margaret never 
 talked much when others were present, and 
 so this was not noticed. 
 
 M 3 
 
CHATTER XI. 
 
 IT was Sunday evening, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Craven were down stairs at dinner, Ada 
 was lying on the sofa by the fire, with 
 Margaret sitting at her feet. 
 
 " Margaret," said she, " what are all those 
 little books about, in that corner of your 
 top drawer ? " 
 
 " They are books that aunt Ellen gave 
 me," replied Margaret ; " some of them are 
 little story books." 
 
 " Are they pretty ? " said Ada. 
 
 " Yes ; this one is very pretty indeed," 
 replied Margaret, getting up and taking one 
 out of the drawer, " it is about a little girl 
 who was ill like you, Ada." 
 
 "Is it? I wish you would read it to 
 me. I feel as if I should like to go to sleep, 
 and reading makes me do so sometimes." 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 127 
 
 Margaret willingly complied; Ada did 
 not go to sleep, but when she had listened 
 for a quarter of an hour exclaimed, " Did 
 she die, Margaret ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Margaret, "at the end 
 of the book." 
 
 " Then what did you begin to read it 
 to me for," said Ada. " I do not want to 
 hear any more. I cannot bear to hear about 
 people dying." 
 
 " She was very happy, Ada dear," said 
 Margaret gently. 
 
 " 1 do not care, I do not want to hear about 
 it," said Ada, almost pettishly, and Margaret 
 closed the book and put it away. 
 
 The next Sunday afternoon they were 
 alone together. Ada was on the couch, and 
 Margaret on the ottoman by her side. 
 
 " Head me something, Margaret," said 
 Ada. 
 
 " What shall I read, dear ? " said Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 " One of those stories out of that new 
 story book papa bought me the other day," 
 replied Ada. 
 
128 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 "But I do not think that is a Sunday 
 book, dear Ada," said Margaret, very gently, 
 "it would not be right to read it to-day, 
 you know." 
 
 " Papa did not say it was not a Sunday 
 book," replied Ada in her old pettish manner, 
 " and you have no right to set yourself up 
 against him." 
 
 " 1 did not mean to do that, Ada, but 
 papa did not say it was a Sunday book," 
 replied Margaret. 
 
 " Well, you are very disagreeable," said 
 Ada, in the same tone in which she had 
 before spoken; "I wish I could sit up 
 a little better without coughing, I would 
 read a story for myself." 
 
 There was silence for a little while. Ada 
 closed her eyes, Margaret sat with her head 
 on her hand looking at her, and apparently 
 thinking about her; then she said (it was 
 the first time she had ever made such a 
 proposal, and she had to summon up all 
 her courage to do it now), "Ada dear, I 
 wish you would let me read something to 
 you out of the Bible about Elijah being 
 
ADA'S ILLNESS. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 131 
 
 fed by the ravens, and then by the poor 
 widow woman," she added after a pause, 
 " I am sure you would like it." 
 
 Ada moved her lips ; Margaret could not 
 tell whether she said "yes," or "no/ 5 but 
 taking up her Bible she found the part 
 which she had mentioned, and in a low, 
 sweet manner, peculiar to herself, began to 
 read. After a time Ada opened her eyes 
 and watched her as she read on ; when she 
 had finished she said 
 
 " That is very pretty ; is all the Bible 
 as pretty as that, Margaret?" 
 
 "No, not all of it," replied Margaret, 
 hesitating, " but aunt Ellen used to say that 
 we ought not to read the Bible only because 
 it is pretty." 
 
 " What ought people to read it for then ? " 
 said Ada, 
 
 " To learn how to serve God, and how to 
 be saved, and to get to heaven, when they 
 die," answered Margaret. 
 
 " If people are good they are sure to go to 
 heaven," said Ada. 
 
 "But you know, Ada, nobody is quite 
 
132 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 good ; the Bible says, ' there is none right- 
 eous, no not one,' and ' all have sinned ; ' 
 so nobody can go to heaven because he is 
 good." 
 
 " How, then," said Ada, " can any one go 
 there?" 
 
 " The Bible says it is by believing in the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners." 
 Margaret paused, looking at Ada. 
 
 Ada returned her glance with a look which 
 seemed to say that she did not at all un- 
 derstand what she meant, even now ; but 
 some one happening at the moment to come 
 into the room, further conversation, for that 
 day at least, was prevented. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THOSE about Margaret, who saw how un- 
 ceasingly she watched and tended Ada, 
 little supposed that her mind was occupied 
 with any other thought than that of re- 
 lieving the bodily sufferings of the poor 
 little invalid, or that her gentle ministra- 
 tions were guided by aught but sisterly 
 affection towards her. They did not know 
 (for indeed there was no one to whom she 
 could speak about it) that within her heart 
 had sprung up an intense desire that poor 
 Ada might be led into the way of life and 
 peace, through that Saviour whom she had 
 herself learned to trust, to love, and to serve. 
 None but God knew how often and earnestly 
 Margaret's heart was lifted up in Ada's 
 behalf in simple prayer, that God would 
 teach her, by his Spirit, to believe in Jesus, 
 
134 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 that thus she might be forgiven, and received 
 at, last into the bright and glorious king- 
 dom which he has prepared for those that 
 love him. 
 
 One day, not long after the conversation 
 related in the last chapter, Mrs. Craven, 
 being obliged to leave home for a few hours, 
 went out, leaving Ada to the care of Susan, 
 find telling Margaret to amuse her while 
 she was gone. Susan went down stairs to 
 prepare some little thing for her, leaving 
 Margaret by the bedside. Ada's face was 
 hidden under the clothes, and Margaret, 
 thinking she was asleep, and that her breath- 
 ing would be obstructed, gently removed 
 them. She was not asleep, she was weeping, 
 a thing by no means uncommon. 
 
 " Ada, dear," said Margaret affectionately, 
 "what is the matter? Do not cry." 
 
 Ada lifted up her head. "Is Susan 
 here ? " she asked. 
 
 "No," said .Margaret; "but I will call 
 her in a moment." 
 
 " No, don V s ^d Ada; "I do not want 
 her; I want to speak to you, Margaret. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 135 
 
 Oh, Margaret," she continued, sobbing, " I am 
 so unhappy, I do not think I shall ever get 
 any better." 
 
 " God can make you better, Ada, dear," 
 said Margaret, " if it pleases him." 
 
 " Yes, 5 ' said poor Ada ; " but I do not think 
 he will ; I think I am going to die. Oh ! 
 Margaret, what shall I do ? I wish I had 
 been good like you, I should not be afraid 
 then." 
 
 " I am not good, Ada, indeed I am not," 
 said Margnret earnestly. " You do not know 
 how wicked I am very often, Ada." 
 
 " No, you are not," said Ada, " I am sure 
 if you were to die you would go to heaven." 
 
 " If I were, it would be only because 
 Jesus has died for me," replied Margaret ; 
 " and you will go too, Ada dear, if you 
 believe in him, and love him." 
 
 "But I have never been good," persisted 
 Ada ; ( ' I have often told stories, and been 
 ill tempered, and unkind to you, and laughed 
 at you for minding w r hat aunt Ellen said, 
 and done other bad things besides." 
 
 " But God will forgive you, Ada, if you 
 
136 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 ask him, for Jesus Christ's sake," said Mar- 
 garet "You know the Bible says, as I 
 told you, there is not anybody in the world 
 quite good ; if people had been quite good 
 Jesus need not have come to die for 
 them." 
 
 Ada raised herself upon her pillow as if 
 she expected Margaret to go on, but finding 
 she did not, she said 
 
 " What does it mean about Jesus dying 
 for us, Margaret. 1 know he was crucified, 
 but I don't kn6w why." 
 
 " Do you not know, dear Ada," replied 
 Margaret, "that Adam and Eve did what 
 God told them not to do, and so sinned 
 against God? Since then, their children, 
 and everybody in the world, have been 
 sinful, and all have deserved to be punished 
 for ever, because they are sinners. I can 
 repeat a verse that says so : ( By one man 
 sin entered into the world, and death by sin ; 
 and so death passed upon all men, for that all 
 have sinned.'* But God had compassion, 
 and sent ' his Son Jesus Clmst ' to save 
 * Rom. v. 12. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 137 
 
 them. The Bible says, 'God so loved the 
 world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 
 that whosoever belie veth in him should 
 not perish, but have everlasting life.'"* 
 
 u Do you mean, then," asked Ada, " that 
 everybody would have been punished if 
 Jesus had not died instead?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Margaret ; " and so will 
 all people now who do not believe on him and 
 love him." 
 
 " But suppose Jesus does not love them," 
 said Ada. " I do not think he loves me, 
 Margaret," she added, looking into Marga- 
 ret's face. 
 
 "Yes, he does, dear Ada," replied Margaret, 
 "aunt Ellen has often told me that he loves 
 everybody, and will save all who come to 
 God by him. Pray to him, dear." 
 
 "But, Margaret, I do say my prayers to 
 myself very often now, but I don't feel a 
 bit happier." 
 
 Margaret tried to explain to Ada, as well 
 as she knew how, and in the gentlest and 
 tenderest nqtanner, that she might not hurt 
 
 * John iii. 16. 
 N 3 
 
138 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 her feelings, that saying prayers and praying 
 were very different; that it was one thing 
 to repeat words with the lips, and another 
 to pray with the heart, though the lips 
 might not have power so much as to move. 
 She tried to speak to her, too, of the infinite 
 love and compassion of the Saviour, and 
 repeated from the Scriptures some of his 
 invitations to sinners to come to him and 
 live. 
 
 It was the first time in her life that Ada 
 had ever been spoken to in this way ; she had, 
 doubtless, heard the same truths in church, 
 but never with any heed or desire to under- 
 stand what they meant. She now listened 
 to them as to a thing she had never been 
 told before, seeming to drink in almost with 
 astonishment every word that Margaret 
 uttered. From this time Margaret was in 
 her room more than ever ; Ada never seemed 
 easy when she was absent. Mrs. Craven 
 could not help observing this, and felt almost 
 jealous that she should sometimes seem to 
 prefer having Margaret by her side even to 
 her. She considered it, however, as one of 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 139 
 
 the whims incident to illness, and while she 
 remarked to herself the increasing patience 
 with which her darling endured her pain 
 and suffering, little supposed she had learned 
 to do so from the simple teaching of the 
 quiet gentle sister whom she loved so much 
 to see by her side. 
 
 Ada still continued to fluctuate, appearing 
 sometimes better and sometimes worse, as she 
 had done from the commencement of her 
 illness. One day when she was very ill, but 
 lying on the sofa, her mother came in and 
 sat down beside her. Margaret was on the 
 sofa at her feet. 
 
 " My precious Ada," said her mother, " how 
 glad I shall be when we can get you into 
 warmer air ; you will soon be better then." 
 
 "Do you think I shall ever get better, 
 mamma ? " said Ada, with a searching look. 
 
 " Get better, my darling ! " repeated Mrs. 
 Craven, " of course you will, what should 
 hinder your getting better? you will be 
 quite well when the spring comes." 
 
 " But the spring is coming now, mamma," 
 said Ada, quietly ; " see, Margaret has brought 
 
140 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 me some primroses this morning, and the 
 spring always comes with them, you know. 
 No, mamma dear," she added, looking up in 
 her mother's face, " I do not think I shall 
 ever get better ; I do not think I shall be 
 here when the roses come/' 
 
 "Ada, my child, you must not talk so," 
 said her mother, " indeed you will get better 
 soon ; you are very poorly to-day ; there, let 
 me shake up your pillow, and you will feel 
 brighter when you have had a little sleep." 
 
 Ada hid her face in her pillow. After a 
 time she appeared to be sleeping. Mrs. Craven 
 rose very softly and beckoned Margaret out 
 of the room. 
 
 "Margaret/ 5 said she, "is it you who 
 have put these notions into Ada's head ? " 
 
 " No mamma," replied Margaret almost 
 weeping, " indeed I did not. Ada told me 
 ever so long ago that she did not think that 
 she should get better." 
 
 " If she says anything of the kind again," 
 said her mother, " 1 desire that you will 
 immediately begin to talk of something else. 
 No wonder she should seem so poorly to-day, 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 141 
 
 poor child, if she has such dreary thoughts 
 in her head." 
 
 "But, mamma, if Ada should die," said 
 Margaret, the tears running down her cheeks 
 as she spoke. 
 
 " She will not die," said the mother with 
 passionate earnestness, and, hastening away 
 to her own room, she closed the door, and 
 burst into an agony of bitter and mur- 
 muring griefl 
 
 Margaret stole softly back to the sofa. 
 " I was not asleep," whispered Ada ; " read 
 me some verses out of the Bible, Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 Ada's sick room was not the first that 
 Margaret had ever been in ; she had often, 
 in by-gone days, accompanied her aunt 
 Ellen in her visits of mercy to the sick and 
 afflicted, and had often listened while she 
 read to them from the word of God. She 
 remembered that the 14th chapter of the 
 Gospel by John, was a favourite chapter 
 with her on these occasions. She opened 
 her Bible and read part of it to Ada. 
 
 " Oh Margaret," said Ada, " I should not 
 
142 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 be afraid to die, if I thought Jesus was 
 preparing a place for me? 
 
 Margaret's pent up tears now flowed 
 forth; she threw her arms about Ada, 
 and said, " Ada, dear Ada, he is preparing 
 a place, a mansion for you, and all who 
 love him, and you love him now, Ada, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "I try to love him," said Ada, "and I 
 think I do sometimes; and then sometimes 
 I think I would so much rather live than 
 go to him, it seems so hard to me to have 
 to leave papa, and mamma, and you, 
 Margaret, now I love you so dearly." 
 
 Margaret wept bitterly, kissing Ada again 
 and again; then she said, "But Jesus knows 
 you cannot help it, Ada, and if you ask him 
 he will teach you to love him more than 
 anybody." 
 
 "I wish I could," said Ada ; f: Margaret, 
 do you really think that Jesus has forgiven 
 me?" 
 
 " Oh ! Ada, how can you ask me ? Don't 
 you remember how he forgave all people 
 who were sorry for their sins, and looked 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 143 
 
 to him, when he was on earth, even the poor 
 thief; and he is just as kind now, you know." 
 
 " Yes/' said Ada, " so lie is, but some- 
 times I forget that ; and I think that when 
 I stand before the great throne, and he 
 asks me what I did when I was on earth 
 to show that I loved him, I shall not be able 
 to say a word ; because, you know, I never 
 have loved him all my life, or done any 
 tiling to try to please him like you. Aunt 
 Ellen taught you to love him when you 
 were quite little." 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret ; " but I did not 
 love him either for a long time. See how 
 wicked I was after I came here; I did 
 not try to please him the least bit." 
 
 " But you tried more than I did," replied 
 Ada, "and now I cannot do anything." 
 
 " Yes you can, dear Ada. I have often 
 heard aunt Ellen tell people who were ill, 
 that if they tried to follow his example, 
 and bear their pain patiently, and not mur- 
 mur, he would account it quite as much 
 done for him as if they were well, and 
 could do other things." 
 
144 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 te I never thought of that before^" said 
 Ada ; " it is very kind of him." 
 
 " I think," Margaret went on, " that aunt 
 Ellen meant, that God never expects people 
 to do more than they are able, and that if 
 they are patient, and gentle, and unmur- 
 muring, it is all they are able to do, and 
 so he will be pleased with them accordingly." 
 
 "I think I understand it," said Ada. 
 " Margaret, how glad I am that you came 
 here, I think that it must have been God 
 who sent you on purpose to teach me ; kiss 
 me, Margaret I will try to go to sleep now. 
 I will try to be patient. Remind me, Mar- 
 garet, when you see me get cross and 
 murmuring." 
 
 Margaret kissed her, and as she saw a 
 sweet slumber steal over her weary eyelids, 
 while a soft smile played around her yet 
 beautiful lips, she thought of her aunt 
 Ellen's words, that God had taken her from 
 her quiet home in the Thatched Cottage, and 
 placed her where she now was for some 
 wise and good purpose of his own, and she 
 lifted up her heart and thanked him for 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 145 
 
 his goodness, in having enabled her to be a 
 help and comfort to poor Ada ; and then 
 she thought how pleasant it would be if 
 Ada could get better, and live on, and love 
 her as she did now, and she prayed ear- 
 nestly that she might get better. But when 
 she recollected how many things there would 
 be to tempt her, and to lead her astray 
 from the right path, it seemed to her as if 
 her wish were a wrong one, and she prayed 
 again, but this time only that whether God 
 saw fit for her to recover or not, he would 
 at last take her to live with him for ever, 
 and permit them, if they might not continue 
 together on earth, to love each other again 
 and for evermore in heaven. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BRIGHT sunshine at length visited the hedge- 
 rows and mossy banks, adorning them with 
 the wrinkled leaves and pale blossoms of 
 the primrose, and the delicate flower of the 
 graceful harebell, while here and there, in 
 sheltered nooks, peeped forth violets blue 
 and white, making their presence known, 
 like that humility of which they are the 
 emblem, only by the sweet fragrance which 
 they cast around. The cuckoo was heard 
 in the woods; the lark again rose above 
 the green fields, singing as he soared; 
 the honey-bee was once more on the wing; 
 the butterfly had burst its dark winter 
 shroud, and sported gladsomely in the bright 
 sunny air ; and pleasant sights and pleasant 
 sounds were abroad in the earth. But Ada 
 was not abroad to see or to hear them. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 147 
 
 Paler, weaker, more wasted than ever, she 
 still lay upon her silk couch, and Margaret 
 still sat by her side, performing, with ever 
 ready and gentle hand, each little office 
 that she might require. 
 
 Mrs. Craven was not in the room so con- 
 stantly as she had been at first, for she often 
 went away to weep, to weep bitter and 
 repining tears. It was no longer possible 
 for her to hide from herself the fact that 
 Ada would die yes, Ada, her pride, her 
 darling, the child on whom she had built 
 her strongest and brightest hopes. Worldly 
 pleasures were nothing to her now ; from the 
 attempted consolations of her worldly friends 
 she turned in disgust. But there was no 
 resignation within her, no submission to 
 the will of God ; her heart knew no feeling 
 but that of bitter repining grief. It was 
 not hers to look upward, and with the eye of 
 faith to behold the bright home already 
 prepared for her child; it was not hers to 
 say with believing trust, " I shall go to her, 
 but she shall not return to me ; " no, nothing 
 was before her but the one terrible certainty 
 
148 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 that she should lose Ada ; the terrible words, 
 " Ada will die," were ever sounding in her 
 ears, and ringing their doleful knell in her 
 heart. 
 
 As to Mr. Craven, he came to see Ada 
 every evening when he returned home, 
 and, if she were not asleep, every morning 
 before he went to his daily engagements. 
 He too, saw that she was dying, but he 
 tried to drive the thought from his mind, 
 resolved, if possible, not to believe so terrible 
 a truth until it was actually forced upon 
 him. 
 
 But to Ada, the thought of death was no 
 longer terrible. Not unheard had been 
 Margaret's many earnest prayers, not un- 
 answered the feeble and broken petitions 
 which had risen from her own heart. Hard 
 had been the struggle which the love of life 
 and the dread of death had awakened within 
 her. It was long ere a believing view of the 
 Saviour brought a calm over the troubled 
 waters of her soul ; but at length it came, 
 and led by his heavenly teaching (for save the 
 simple instructions of Margaret she had no 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 149 
 
 other guide) she was at length enabled to 
 rest sweetly on that gentle Saviour who 
 loves to gather his lambs in his arms, and 
 to carry them in his bosom. 
 
 It was only to Margaret that Ada could 
 find courage to speak of these things; she 
 often wished to do so to her father and 
 mother, but could not. At length, one day^ 
 her mother came into the room w r hen 
 Margaret was reading to her; she had a 
 new book in her hand. 
 
 " What is that you are reading to Ada^ 
 Margaret ? " said she. 
 
 " ' The Pilgrim's Progress,' mamma, " re- 
 plied Margaret, " Ada asked me to read it." 
 
 " You should not read such dull books 
 as that to her," replied Mrs. Craven. " See 
 Ada, love/' she continued, " Lady F has 
 been in to inquire after you, and has brought 
 you this book full of funny pictures to make 
 you laugh." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma," said Ada, taking 
 
 the book without opening it, " but I do not 
 
 want to laugh now, it hurts me so, and I 
 
 like to hear about Christian and his troubles 
 
 o 3 
 
150 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 very much, it makes me forget the pain 
 in my chest sometimes." 
 
 " You are a dear, patient, little angel," 
 said her mother, fondly kissing her. 
 
 " No, mamma, I am not an angel, because 
 angels are quite good," said Ada, " and I am 
 not patient either, very often, mamma. I 
 wish you would read to me sometimes." 
 
 " Well, my darling, so I will whenever 
 you like," replied her mother ; " shall I read 
 to you now, one of these stories ? " 
 
 " No, mamma, not that ; Margaret will 
 tell you what. I will not hear any more 
 about Christian now ; will you find the place 
 in the Bible about the beautiful city, and 
 give it to mamma ? " 
 
 These were two of Ada's favourite 
 chapters;* she could not understand the 
 whole of them, but those parts which she 
 did understand, she knew almost by heart, 
 so often had Margaret read them to her. 
 Margaret opened the Bible and gave it to 
 her mother, and for the first time in her 
 life Mrs. Craven's voice was employed in 
 *Rev. xxi. xxii. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 151 
 
 read in <* the word of God to her children. 
 
 o 
 
 At first it faltered, but at length she grew 
 calm. Ada closed her eyes and listened; 
 when the chapters were finished, she opened 
 them and said 
 
 " Mamma, I think I am very soon going 
 to live in that beautiful city." 
 
 Mrs, Craven hid her face and wept 
 almost convulsively ; she had never before 
 thus given way in Ada's presence. 
 
 " Mamma," said Ada, reaching out her 
 little white hand, " mamma, do not cry so, 
 do not cry; I am not afraid to go, indeed 
 I am not." 
 
 "Ada," said she at length, " my own 
 darling, surely you do not wish to go away 
 and leave me." 
 
 " No, mamma," replied Ada, quite calmly, 
 " I do not want to leave you, and yet I 
 think for some things it is better to die than 
 live ; and if God calls me I must go, you 
 know ; and we shall be separated only for 
 a little while ; you, and papa, and Margaret, 
 will come soon, and then we shall all be 
 there together/' 
 
152 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 " But Ada, my darling," said her mother 
 still weeping, " you would rather get better 
 and live." 
 
 "No, I do not think I would," replied 
 Ada, in the same low quiet voice, "not 
 now. I wished very much to get better 
 once, but that was before Margaret told me 
 about the Lord Jesus, and how God would 
 forgive me and take me to heaven for his 
 sake ; no, I do not wish to get better now, 
 mamma, only to stay with you ; for if I did 
 perhaps I might be tempted to grow wicked 
 again, and to forget God." 
 
 " You never were wicked, my Ada," said 
 her mother, " you were always good." 
 
 " No, mamma, I was not," replied Ada ; 
 " I have often disobeyed and vexed you and 
 been unkind to Margaret, but she has for- 
 given me, and you will too, will you not, 
 mamma? " 
 
 " My darling, do not talk so/' said the 
 weeping mother ; t what shall I do if I lose 
 you?" 
 
 " But, mamma dear, you will not lose me ; 
 it will only be for a little while, and then you 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 153 
 
 will come come to me ; you know if if you 
 love Jesus, mamma, he will prepare a man- 
 sion for you; and, mamma, I will watch 
 for you by the gate of the golden city, for 
 you and papa and Margaret yes, you will 
 all come." Mrs. Craven again wept. " Ada 
 whispered something to Margaret, who left 
 the room; then after a few minutes she 
 said 
 
 " Mamma, will you be angry if I say 
 something ?" 
 
 " How could I be angry at anything you 
 say, my Ada?" replied her mother; " what is 
 it, my darling ? " 
 
 " I only wanted to say, dear mamma," she 
 continued, throwing her thin arm round her 
 mother's neck, " that I think, if people want 
 to go to heaven, they must not love the things 
 of the earth too much, because, you see, 
 mamma, there is not time for us to do all that 
 God wants us to do, and to amuse and please 
 ourselves so very much too. Mamma, you 
 cannot think how different everything seems 
 to me to what it used to do ; it does not seem 
 as if anything was of any consequence at all 
 
154 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 but loving Christ and getting safe to heaven ; 
 because you know, mamma dear, we only 
 stay upon earth such a little time, but we 
 shall live afterwards for ever and ever." 
 
 "Ada," said her mother, "I have been 
 very wrong, but you must live, my darling, 
 and teach me how to do better." 
 
 " No, mamma," said Ada, " I am not good 
 enough to teach you ; besides, I know I must 
 go when God calls me, but God will teach 
 you himself if you ask him. And Margaret, 
 mamma, you will love Margaret, will you 
 not ? Oh, mamma, Margaret is a great deal 
 better than I am ; she always has been, only 
 you loved me best because you had never 
 been parted from me." 
 
 "Yes, Ada, I did love you best," said 
 her mother, " and perhaps that is why God 
 is going to take you from me." 
 
 " I don't know," said Ada ; " but now you 
 will love Margaret for me and herself too, 
 will you not ? Mamma, if it had not been for 
 Margaret I should never have known any- 
 thing 1 should never have known how to get 
 to heaven;" and, exhausted with the long 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 155 
 
 talking, she sank back on her pillow and 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 " Should never have known how to get to 
 heaven:" Ada little thought the pang of 
 bitter self-reproach which shot through her 
 mother's heart at those few words. Was it 
 so? Had she then, while so carefully nur- 
 turing and tending and adorning the beauti- 
 ful outward body, while so ceaselessly watch- 
 ing over the worldly and temporal interests of 
 her child, forgotten or utterly neglected to 
 nurture, beautify, and train aright the im- 
 mortal spirit within? Yes, such was the 
 sad truth which those few short words had 
 revealed to her, and with a heart tried by 
 remorseful feelings, which .still rose up in 
 proud rebellion against God, Mrs. Craven 
 retired to her chamber. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AFTER this, Ada faded rapidly. Her pain 
 left her, and her cough became much less 
 troublesome ; but still she faded. One even- 
 ing, when she had been sleeping much longer 
 than usual, she awoke suddenly, and seeing 
 Margaret, said, " Margaret, dear, ask Susan to 
 fetch mamma, but do not go away." 
 
 " I am here, love," said Mrs. Craven, 
 standing by the bed. 
 
 " And papa," said Ada, " I want papa too. 
 I want to kiss him." 
 
 Mr. Craven soon came, and, sitting down 
 by the bedside, put his arm under the pillow, 
 raising her a little, as he was wont to do. 
 
 " Papa," said Ada, turning her brilliant 
 eyes upon him, " I love you so very much ; 
 kiss me." 
 
 "My darling," he said, as he stooped 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 157 
 
 forward and kissed her, " how are you to- 
 night?" 
 
 "I am very happy," said Ada, but her 
 voice was exceedingly low ; it sank almost to 
 a whisper as she added 
 
 " Papa, may I ask one favour of you ?" 
 
 " Yes, my love," he replied, " what is 
 it, Ada?" 
 
 " When I am dead," she continued, 
 speaking quite calmly, " will you never 
 laugh at Margaret for liking to read the 
 Bible, and to go to church, and to do good 
 things? and papa," and here she paused a 
 moment, as if uncertain whether she might 
 go on, " sometimes sometimes on a Sun- 
 day afternoon, if you have time, will you 
 let her read it to you as she has done 
 
 to me ? it will remind you of me, you 
 
 know ; she can read to you about the beau- 
 tiful city where I am going to live." 
 
 Mr. Craven hid his face and wept like 
 a child, but Ada was still perfectly calm. 
 
 " You remember what I told you, mamma, 
 do you not ? " said she, stretching out her 
 hand to her mother ; " how I would watch 
 
158 MARGARET CRAVEN ; OR, 
 
 for you at the gate? Margaret, you will 
 remind mamma sometimes, will you not? 
 and you will always think of me when the 
 primroses come; and now I will kiss you 
 all and bid you good night," she added, 
 " before I go to sleep." 
 
 They all kissed her, and she again settled 
 herself upon her pillow. Mr. Craven was 
 so overcome that he went away. Her 
 mother and Margaret still stayed by her. 
 In about a quarter of an hour they thought 
 she was sleeping ; but soon after she opened 
 her eyes and said, dreamily, " Mamma, 
 Margaret, remember, I shall be there 
 watching for you, do not be long, Jesus 
 
 will be there too,"- and then she closed 
 
 her eyes again ; they heard a gentle sigh, 
 and thought she was again sleeping. And 
 so she was, but it was the long last sleep. 
 Angels' wings had long been hovering around 
 her, and now, passing thus gently and 
 peacefully, had they borne her ransomed 
 and purified spirit to the beautiful and 
 heavenly city in which she had so longed 
 to dwell. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 159 
 
 For days Mrs. Craven would see no one ; 
 Mr. Craven, too, shut himself up in his 
 room, Margaret being the only person 
 permitted to go in and out, and even to 
 her he dared trust himself to say but little. 
 Their Ada, their beautiful Ada, was gone. 
 Neither beauty, nor riches, nor love had been 
 able to keep her from the iron grasp of 
 death. She had faded as a flower before 
 their eyes ; all their efforts to save her 
 had proved unavailing. Mrs. Craven- made 
 no secret of her rebellious feelings ; she could 
 not see the dispensation, she said ; she could 
 not see why Ada should have died ; she 
 had everything to make her happy in this 
 world ; why, then, should she have been 
 taken from it r 
 
 Mr. Craven did not speak in this way, 
 but so utter a stranger was he to the ways 
 in which God often sees fit to deal with his 
 erring creatures, and thus to draw them to 
 himself, that the language of his heart was, 
 in all probability, almost the same ; the only 
 difference between them was that although 
 he had unquestionably thought more of Ada 
 
1GO MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 than of Margaret, yet he loved her fondly 
 too, and thus his heart was not left quite 
 without an idol. 
 
 Poor Margaret, she too felt very lonely and 
 sad indeed ; she missed Ada for herself as 
 one whom she had learned to love dearly and 
 tenderly ; she missed performing the thousand 
 little offices which she had required of her 
 every day, almost every hour of the day ; she 
 missed having no one to watch, and to think 
 about, and to care for ; and, more than all, 
 she missed the sweet words of peace and 
 truth, and hope, with which the last weeks 
 of Ada's young life had been beautified. 
 
 There was a little Testament which Ada 
 had been accustomed to keep beneath her 
 pillow, and in which, although she was 
 unable to read herself, she constantly made 
 Margaret mark any little passage which 
 struck her, or which she liked particularly. 
 A few days before her death she had made 
 Margaret promise that she could give this 
 Testament to her papa. She had now been 
 dead some days, and yet Margaret had been 
 unable to do so, indeed she could not find 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 161 
 
 courage even to mention Ada's name to her 
 father. So fearful was she of again breaking 
 open the flood-gates of his sorrow. Some- 
 times she thought that she would take it to 
 her mother, and ask her to give it to him ; 
 but then she had promised Ada to do so her- 
 self, and this thought deterred her; so 
 she carried it about wherever she went, 
 until a fitting ** opportunity might, as she 
 hoped, occur. 
 
 She went very often to look at Ada, 
 frequently many times in one day. She 
 knew where Susan kept the key of the room, 
 and so she used to take it and go in with- 
 out saying a word to any one. Ada looked 
 so calm, peaceful, and beautiful, that although 
 she had never seen death before, she could 
 not help feeling a strange kind of pleasure in 
 gazing upon her. 
 
 One afternoon it was the day before that 
 appointed for the funeral she went out to 
 look at the little gardens which had belonged 
 to her and Ada. They were untidy and over- 
 grown with weeds, for she had no heart to 
 do anything to them for the last few weeks, 
 p 3 
 
162 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 She stooped down to pull up some chick weed 
 which was choking a root of double 
 violets which she remembered Ada had 
 planted the spring before, and in so doing 
 saw that her monthly rose-tree which she 
 had also planted, and which stood in a shel- 
 tered corner, had on it a single opening 
 blossom, the first rose of summer. She 
 recollected what Ada had gaid about being 
 gone before the roses came, and gathering 
 it, with a few lilies of the valley from her 
 own garden, formed them into a bouquet, 
 and returned straight to the house. 
 
 She went upstairs without meeting any 
 one, not even Susan; then taking the 
 key from its hiding place, she unlocked 
 the door and entered into the room, clos- 
 ing it softly behind her. That room, 
 which she had once shared with Ada, but 
 which, when that night w r as passed away, 
 would contain Ada's form no more. There 
 stood the white coffin, but as yet tenantless, 
 for Ada still lay upon the bed, looking, 
 Margaret thought, as she silently unpinned 
 the curtain, and removed the handkerchief 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 163 
 
 Prom her face, more happy and beautiful than 
 over. She placed the rose and the lilies in 
 her bosom, once more kissed the snowy 
 brow around which the long brown ringlets 
 still fell, then sat down by the bedside and 
 looked 1 at her. Her back was to the door; 
 she heard some one open it softly and come 
 in, but thinking it was Susan who often 
 followed her in in this way, she did not look 
 round. But soon she felt a hand upon her 
 shoulder; it was her father's ; and for the first 
 time he and she together gazed upon Ada 
 since her death : she threw herself into his 
 arms and burst into tears. He kissed her 
 tenderly, and still putting his arm round her 
 sat down. 
 
 ''' So you are not afraid to come and 
 look at poor Ada, Margaret," said he, 
 when she had wiped away her tears, and 
 with one arm round his neck stood by 
 him, still gazing at the pale form before 
 
 her. 
 
 " Afraid, papa ? no," said she ; " how can 
 
 I be afraid ? " 
 
 " Some people are afraid even to look upon 
 
1G4 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 death, Margaret," said he, "but you do 
 not seem to know what fear is. What were 
 you thinking of when I came into the 
 room ? " 
 
 " I was thinking, papa, how very beautiful 
 Ada will be at the resurrection." 
 
 "What do you mean, Margaret?" said 
 her father, starting a little at words which 
 he evidently did not expect to hear. 
 
 " Well, papa, you know we shall then 
 all have bodies given to us much more 
 beautiful than those we now have, so only 
 think how very lovely Ada will be, and 
 how glad we shall be when we see her 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Craven was silent for a minute or 
 two ; then he said, " Where did you learn 
 all this, Margaret?" 
 
 " Papa/' she replied, " aunt Ellen taught 
 me ; but it is all in the Bible ; all about the 
 resurrection, and Jesus coming again ; it is 
 in the fifteenth chapter of the 1st of Corin- 
 thians ; I do not quite understand it all, but 
 I used to read it to Ada sometimes, and she 
 liked it very much." 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 165 
 
 "You think Ada is gone to heaven then, 
 Margaret ? " said her father, as if he wished 
 to see what answer she would make. 
 
 " Oh, papa/' she replied, looking at him 
 as though to read in his countenance if he 
 had the least doubt, " I am sure of it, quite 
 sure. What should we do, papa, if we were 
 not sure?" 
 
 " I do not know, Margaret," he replied. 
 She felt awed at the solemnity of his manner; 
 then, taking Ada's little Testament from her 
 pocket, she said timidly 
 
 " Papa, this is Ada's Testament ; she told 
 me I was to be sure to give it to you, and 
 to tell you that the verses she liked best 
 are where the marks are ; this is the chapter 
 I told you about; see, Ada marked that 
 herself. Papa, would you mind reading a 
 little of it to me ? " 
 
 " 1 would rather that you read it to me, 
 Margaret," he replied, and his voice was thick 
 and husky as he spoke, "let me hear you." 
 
 She obeyed, and there, in the mute pre- 
 sence of the dead, read with a calm, low, 
 steady voice, from beginning to end, the 
 
166 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 sublime chapter from which she had drawn 
 the comforting assurance of which she had 
 spoken. 
 
 " Margaret," said he, when she ceased, 
 " do you understand all that ? " 
 
 " No, papa, there are some verses which 
 I cannot understand at all." 
 
 " And yet you like it," he said. 
 
 " I like what I do understand, " said 
 Margaret ; " do you not, papa ? " 
 
 "Margaret," said he, taking the little 
 Testament in his hand, " you are yet but a 
 little girl, but you know far more than your 
 father, who has lived so long in the world, 
 and who ought to have been able to teach 
 you. I thank God that in your aunt Ellen 
 you have had a better teacher, and I make 
 you this promise, here before poor Ada, who 
 asked it of me, that I will never again laugh 
 at anything you do or say: go on as 
 you have begun, Margaret. Whatever I 
 may think myself, my desire for you is, 
 that you may never be led to forsake 
 those truths, which I now see are alone 
 able to give peace in the hour of death, or 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 167 
 
 true consolation to those whom we leave 
 behind/' 
 
 Margaret leaned against his bosom, but 
 did not speak for some time ; at length 
 she said, but without looking up " Then 
 you will read Ada's Testament, papa ? " 
 
 But he did not reply, he only kissed her 
 again, very tenderly, and left the room. 
 
 Weeks passed on, but the violence of 
 Mrs. Craven's grief seemed unabated ; at 
 length it brought on a dangerous and alarm- 
 ing illness. For many days, almost for 
 weeks, her life hung as it \vere upon a thread, 
 which any moment might be snapped 
 asunder. To Margaret's great joy, her aunt 
 Ellen, whose presence was always welcome 
 wherever she went, but more especially in 
 the house of mourning, was again their 
 guest. She devoted the greater part of her 
 time to Mrs. Craven, and during those long, 
 dark hours of sickness, of sorrow, almost 
 of despair, so gently did she probe the 
 cankering wound, so wisely did she admi- 
 nister counsel, advice, and consolation, that 
 the proud spirit was at length, by God's 
 
168 MARGARET CRAVEN; OR, 
 
 grace, bent and softened beneath her pa- 
 tient teaching ; and when, after many 
 months of suffering, Mrs. Craven once 
 more emerged from her sick chamber, it was 
 with a heart, which, though it still felt 
 the rents which sorrow and suffering, both 
 bodily and mental, had left behind them, 
 was in a measure bound up and healed. 
 
 Margaret's gentleness and affection had 
 in no small measure conduced to this, 
 and every day both her father and mo- 
 ther found her winding more closely round 
 their hearts, and more than supplying the 
 place of her whom they had lost; and 
 Mrs. Craven, instead of any longer re- 
 pining that God had taken Ada to him- 
 self, learned to thank him for so doing, 
 in that he had not only saved her child 
 from the pomps, and vanities, and temp- 
 tations to which she would have been 
 exposed in this wicked world, but that also, 
 by this stroke of his afflicting rod, she had 
 herself, though bitter had been the lesson, at 
 length been taught to set her affections on 
 things above, and not on things on the earth. 
 
BEAUTY OF THE HEART. 169 
 
 As Margaret grew up she no longer 
 needed to oppose the wishes of those dearest 
 to her in following out those principles 
 which her beloved aunt Ellen had first 
 planted in her heart; and though she 
 still occasionally met with temptations to 
 forsake the narrow path, which she had 
 early learned to tread,- she was, by God's 
 grace, enabled to withstand them, and to 
 continue with all lowliness and meekness, 
 to walk worthy the vocation wherewith 
 she was called. The Thatched Cottage she 
 ever continued to look upon as her second 
 home, and never visited it without thanking 
 God for the instruction she had first received 
 beneath its roof. 
 
 And now, dear young reader, farewell. 
 Should this simple history of Margaret's 
 trials and temptations, and how she was 
 enabled to overcome them, prove useful to 
 any who may be seeking to tread the same 
 narrow path, it will not have been written 
 in vain. 
 
 We have endeavoured to describe her 
 
170 MARGARET CRAVEN. 
 
 as she was, not as she was not. Her 
 numerous faults and failings show her far 
 
 o 
 
 from perfection, and how, as long as she 
 leaned upon her own strength, forgetting 
 to seek Divine aid and guidance, she was 
 utterly unable to overcome them. While 
 her subsequent stedfastness and uprightness 
 amidst many temptations, may be traced 
 entirely to that gracious assistance which, by 
 earnest prayer, and by constant watchfulness 
 over herself, she sought and obtained. 
 
 To those who are apt to set too great a 
 value upon personal beauty and external 
 advantages, poor Ada's death- bed may 
 show how utterly valueless are these to 
 bring peace at the last. Beauty, talent, 
 and wealth are all of them God's gifts, and 
 to be valued accordingly; but the inner 
 Beauty of the Heart, even the gifts and 
 graces bestowed by God's Holy Spirit, and 
 cultivated with an earnest desire, on our 
 part, to please him, is that alone which 
 can stand the test of life, of death, and of 
 eternity. 
 
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TA U8804