female friend--no friend but myself. Our villagers are labouring men and
women--our population consists of such alone. Think what you have been,
and what you must resign."

The lady sighed deeply, and answered--

"It is, Mr Littleton, just because I cannot forget what I have been, that
I come here to make amends for past neglect and sinfulness. I have a debt
_there_, sir"--and she pointed solemnly towards the sky--"which must be
paid. I have been an unfaithful steward, and must be reconciled to my good
master ere I die. You may trust me. You know my income and my means. It is
trifling; comparatively speaking--nothing. Yet, less than half of it must
suffice for my support. The rest is for your flock. You shall distribute
it, and you shall teach me how to minister to their temporal
necessities--how to labour for their eternal glory. The world and I have
parted, and for ever."

"I will not oppose you further madam. You shall make the trial if you
please, and yet"--the vicar hesitated.

"Pray speak, sir," said the lady.

"I was thinking of your accommodation. Here I could not well receive
you--and I know no other house becoming"--

"Do not mock me, Mr Littleton. A room in the cot of your poorest
parishioner is more than I deserve--more than the good fishermen of
Galilee could sometimes find. Think of me, I beg, as I am--not as I have
been."