the snow comes down, He arranges it as beautiful as possible, making the very frost trace delicate patterns on the windows, and on the ground."
"Yes, I know," said Owen, eagerly; "father was reading to me yesterday how that every snow-flake is a crystal."
"Ah, I expect the more you search into God's works, the more beauty you will find, Owen." The good woman went on busily with her work as she spoke, presently adding, "I think, too, that God's children should always try to have things nice and pleasant about them, at least, as far as may be. I know that a struggling woman, with a lot of little children, can't have things as nice as she would. But every one may be clean, and if all did their best, the world would look different to what it does now."
"Mrs. Mitchell, I am going to do my best, and make my fortune one day."
"I am very glad, Owen; I hope you will."
"Do you? That is kind of you. Sam Netherclift laughs, and thinks I shall never do it."
"You may do it, if you seek it in the right way. There are two sorts of fortune, Owen. I hope you'll get the better."
"Two sorts! What are they?"
"One is a fortune of riches that take to themselves wings, and soon fly away; and the other sort is 'durable riches.'"
"Oh, I should make a fortune that would last, of course. Riches that fly away are not of much use. I should seek the best fortune, Mrs. Mitchell."
"I hope so, I hope so, indeed," said the woman, as she set down her cool iron, and took a fresh one from the fire.
Owen did not reply at once; he fancied there was some hidden meaning in Mrs. Mitchell's words, but he did not understand what it was. He turned to his book, and for a while there was silence, only broken by the sound of the iron on the board.
Presently he looked up, and asked, "Did father say when he would be in, Mrs. Mitchell?"
"No, he said he wasn't sure, but he should not be late."
"You knew my mother, didn't you? I wish she had lived till now."
"Ah, you may well wish that. A sweeter and a better woman never lived. Yes, I knew her, and tended her in her last illness. She was a rich woman, too."
"A rich woman! how do you make that out?"
"Rich in faith, and love, and good works; those are the riches that last, Owen. You will never be rich unless you come to the Saviour."
"Squire Rowland is rich, and he isn't–" Owen paused for a suitable word—"you know what I mean, Mrs. Mitchell; he does not go to church, or visit the poor."
"No, I fear he is not a child of God, poor man. He is rich in this world's goods; but this world will not last for ever, and we shall live on after this world is burnt up. So it is best to have riches we can take with us. Better be poor here, and rich in the world to come, than rich on earth, to pine in miserable poverty for ever."
"But will all rich men be poor in the other world?"
"No, indeed. God sometimes gives earthly riches to His children to spend for Him, though I must say I think they are generally poor. But those of God's children who are rich here count their money the least part of their fortune. A wealthy Christian man once lost all his money by the breaking of a bank, and a friend meeting him after, said, 'I am sorry to hear you have lost everything.' He replied, 'It is a mistake; I have not lost everything. I have not lost Christ, I have not lost heaven, nor God's Word, nor the peace He gives. And on earth I have not lost my wife, nor my health, nor my senses, nor many good friends.' You see, Owen, one may be very rich, and yet have very little money."
"But money is a good thing, too; we cannot do without it."
"It is good for what we can do with it. Money is no good stored away and laid up. But it may be of great use and blessing if laid out and spent for the Saviour. Yet I think those people are the happiest who have just enough for every day's use."
"I don't know, Mrs. Mitchell. I should like to have more than I could count."
"God grant you never may, Owen; it would ruin you, body and soul. Seek the lasting riches, and leave God to give you sufficient means to live on. Isn't that a Bible on the shelf? Just reach it down, and turn to Proverbs, the eighth chapter and seventeenth and eighteenth verses."
Owen did as he was bid, and read out aloud, "I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me early shall find Me. Riches and honour are with Me; yea, durable riches and righteousness."
"That's the true fortune; God give you grace to seek it."
Owen did not reply; he sat with the book in his hands, looking thoughtfully into the fire, till suddenly he heard a step outside, and jumped up to greet his father.
CHAPTER II.
CHANGES
MR. HADLEIGH was a tall, thin, anxious-looking man, a great contrast to his son. He entered the room slowly, and sat down in the arm-chair by the fire, as if he were very weary.
"Are you not well, father?" asked Owen, anxiously.
"I have had a long walk, my son. I shall be better when I have had some tea."
Owen was accustomed to wait upon his father, and soon put the tea in the little teapot, and set it down by the fire to brew while he fetched the bread and butter out of a neighbouring cupboard, and cutting a slice of bread off the loaf, he knelt down before the fire to toast it. Mrs. Mitchell meanwhile put her irons away, and folded up the remaining clothes without a word, except just as she was tying on her bonnet she ventured to say, "I suppose you got through your business, Mr. Hadleigh. It seems to have knocked you up a bit."
"Yes; the result was what I expected. But I am more concerned for others than for myself."
"God can see after them, and care for them even better than you can. His ways are always better than ours."
"No doubt; but one cannot always realise it," said the schoolmaster wearily.
Mrs. Mitchell ventured no more than a quiet "good-night," as she saw Owen was listening to the conversation, evidently desiring to know what they meant. But when she was by herself out in the road, she said softly, "Poor things, they are both in trouble. Mr. Hadleigh is a clever man, no doubt, and gets the children on wonderful; but he has not got that quiet trust in God that Mrs. Hadleigh had. God give it him!"
Just as she turned the corner of the lane leading to her cottage, she met the vicar.
"Ha, Mrs. Mitchell, I have just been to your cottage, but your little girl told me you were not in yet. I hear that Mr. Hadleigh has some trouble pressing upon him. I have thought him looking anxious and careworn for some time; but he is such a reserved man, one cannot get much out of him. I thought perhaps you could give me a hint how I could help him."
"Indeed, sir, I wish you would go and see him; I fear he is in a sad way. He has not been feeling well for a long time, though he will not own it. He will not go to Dr. Benson for fear all the village should talk; but to-day he went over to Allenbury to see Dr. Foster, and he has evidently told him some bad news about himself, for he seemed very low when he came in; but Owen was there, so I could not ask."
"No; the poor boy will feel it sadly if his father is really seriously ill. I never saw such deep attachment between father and son."
Meanwhile Owen and his father were having a little talk. The poor boy seemed very uneasy during tea, and as soon as he had cleared away the remains of the meal, he sat down on his accustomed seat by his father's side, and said anxiously, "What is it father? Something is wrong, I am sure."
Mr. Hadleigh put his hand on the boy's head for a few moments without speaking. Presently he said, "You have often talked of making your fortune, Owen; how should you like to go to your Uncle James, and learn his business as a beginning?"
"I should like to go into business very well, father, but I could not leave you. You will not send me away?"
"No, I will not do that, but I may have to leave you, Owen. The doctor says my heart is seriously diseased."
Mr. Hadleigh could get no further for the look of dismay that crept over his