This is Maria, and this is Henrietta--Miss Gascoigne." Christian bowed--a little stately, perhaps--and then held out her hand, which, after a hesitating glance at Miss Gascoigne, was accepted timidly by Miss Grey.

"I couldn't help it, my dear" she afterward pleaded, in answer to a severe scolding; "she quite took me by surprise." But in Miss Gascoigne's acuter and more worldly nature the surprise soon wore off, leaving a sharp consciousness of the beauty, grace and dignity--formidable weapons in the hands of any woman, and especially of one so young as the master's wife.

Not that her youth was now very noticeable; to any one who had known Christian before her marriage, she would have appeared greatly altered, as if some strange mental convulsion had passed over her--passed, and been subdued.

In two weeks she had grown ten years older--was, a matron, not a girl.
Yet still she was herself.

We often come to learn that change--which includes growth--is one of the most blessed laws in existence; but it is only weak natures who, in changing, lose their identity.