CHAPTER XXVI.

STRIPPED OF LEAVES.

MR. WAYNE had said truly that George

Clariston's crime would be the town-talk. People discussed it at street-corners, in shops, in the market-place, and on the quay: it was the leading topic of the day-the all-absorbing theme. Moreover, it was very soon made known that the delinquent had left several heavy bills unpaid, and the Alderport tradesmen were justly incensed against him.

Old Mr. Brett sat in his office and meekly endured the hard things that some of the sufferers came to say to him. He was blamed by many for taking Clariston into partnership; but he could only defend himself by declaring that he, as well as others, had been deceived. Meanwhile the officers of justice were on the track of the

fugitive, and his capture was looked upon as a

certainty.

While the townsfolk gossiped and wondered about Ada Fenway, she sat in the house, crushed and humbled to the very dust. No entreaties could induce her to go out of doors and brave the inquisitive glances of the public; nor would she be persuaded to see habitual callers. To be left alone, that she might sit and brood over her misery, was all that she now desired. In the spring-tide of her life there had come upon her a sudden desolation-a swift and terrible blight. In a moment-in the twinkling of an eye-every leaf was stripped from that fair and flourishing tree, and it stood up naked and fruitless, exposed to the sharp blasts of woe.

There was no hope, as she said to herself a thousand times, of ever seeing her lover again, or even of hearing a word of remorse from his lips. The pang of separation might have been borne, but the agony of his disgrace was intolerable. To be pointed at as the woman who was to have married Clariston, the forger-to meet the pity of the kind, and the contempt of the unkind-to be

marked out as one whose early years had been shadowed by another's crime-these were the trials that she felt herself unable to endure; and her sensitive spirit magnified and distorted everything. "A great chasm had opened itself between them," writes Nathaniel Hawthorne of two who were sundered. "They might gaze upon one another from the opposite side, but without the possibility of ever meeting more; or at least, since the chasm could never be bridged over, they must tread the whole round of eternity to meet on the other side." Such a gulf yawned between Ada and her own familiar friend; and never had eternity seemed so unreal and so far off as now. To feel that there was another life was almost impossible while the troubles of this present time were so stupendous and overwhelming. The hills of darkness had shut out all view of that better country which she had once loved to gaze upon. It might exist, but it was lost alike to hope and sight.

If her religion had been genuine, it would have comforted her now. But this time of trial proved its falseness, even to herself.

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'Everything in my life is a vain show," she mused in these bitter hours. “That awful text, 'Leaves Only,' applies to me, and to all that belongs to me. It applies to George's love—that is nothing but leaves-nothing but empty professions, and promises that never came to fulfilment; and it is the same with my faith-all pretence—all foliage and no fruit! No wonder that the Lord's sentence has gone forth, and I am withered and blighted for ever!"

She could not then realise that it was a tender Hand that had stripped off the redundant leaves. No sentence of destruction had been passed upon her. The Master's love was set upon this tree, and He was making it meet for Himself. It had been barren too long; too long had that luxuriant leafiness been taken for fruitfulness by those whose eyes were dim. And Christ would have it so no longer; in mercy he was pruning the boughs, and cutting the fair falsities away.

If Ada prayed at all in these miserable days, it was that George might escape.

Those who loved her were lifting up their hearts in the same prayer. For her sake they

pleaded that he might not be brought to justice ; for her sake they entreated the Father in heaven to spare her this worst humiliation of knowing. that he was a convicted felon. Even Mr. Wayne -who might have been excused for wishing to punish the forger-actually dreaded to hear that he was taken.

"If only one could hear that he was safely out of England!" said Jack to Aunt Emily. "But if he is brought to trial I don't know how Ada will bear it. I never saw any one so utterly broken down.”

"Not a whisper of the matter has reached your father yet," remarked Mrs. Hurst. "He has been told, you know, that Ada is not quite well; and we have cautioned the servants. But if that trial comes on

"If it does, Aunty, we must send Ada away from this house. How I wish she had made friends of the Lynnes! We might have arranged for her to go somewhere into the country with Hester Lynne while Miriam is on her weddingtour."

"I am glad that Mrs. Grange has not called here," said Mrs. Hurst, after a pause.