heard the tidings. It is their own fault, do you say? They can come to
our churches at any time. Nay, my friend; we must go out into the
highways and hedges and force them to come in with kindly sympathy and
brotherly aid.

John Leslie was the other friend whom Sibyl Warrington had selected
from the large circle of Westerton society. Did she really like him?
Aunt Faith could not decide this either, but she noticed the
increasing interest in the young clergyman's manner, as he came and
went to and from the old stone house. Free from guile as Nathanael of
old, John Leslie felt an increasing attachment to the beautiful Miss
Warrington, who came occasionally to his little church, and seemed,
whenever he spoke on the subject, so truly interested in the work of
his life; he talked with her about his Sunday School, and her
suggestions had been of service to him; for Sibyl possessed a talent
for organization, and a ready tact quite unusual for one so young. And
in this work she was no hypocrite; she enjoyed her conversations with
Mr. Leslie, and looked forward to his visits with real pleasure. What
wonder that he thought her a true child of God, an earnest Christian,
a fellow-laborer in the vineyard? Sometimes, when Aunt Faith was
present and heard Mr. Leslie's conversation, her old heart glowed
within her breast, and she felt herself carried back to the ancient
days when the young converts went about the world with ardent
enthusiasm, preaching the new gospel to every creature in spite of
perils by land and sea, perils of torture, and perils of death itself.
Then she would look at Sibyl. Sometimes the girl's cheek glowed with
an answering enthusiasm, and for the time being, Aunt Faith would
think that her heart was touched, and her soul uplifted by the earnest
love of God which shone out from John Leslie's words. But the next
day, perhaps, a letter from her cousin in Washington would come, and