CHAPTER VI.

HELP IN NEED.

WELL was it for Norah Peele that a quiet time for thinking was thus forced upon her, unwilling as she felt at the moment to lay down her tempting novel, and obey her mistress's summons.

When Norah entered the peaceful room, where the soft light of the shaded lamp fell on Mrs. Martin's placid voice and silvery hair, as she sat with her hands clasped, and a look of much patience in her almost sightless eyes, Norah felt as if she had quitted a glaring theatre, and come into a house of prayer. There was before her one who had long worn the breastplate of righteousness, and fought the good fight of faith, and who would soon receive the victor's crown from Him whom she loved and obeyed.

Norah took up the book which she was accustomed to read, but so pre-occupied was her mind with its own perplexing thoughts, that she began at the first chapter at which she chanced to open the volume, without paying attention to a marker left in the proper place.

"Surely we have heard that before," said Mrs. Martin.

Norah had not attended to one word of what she had been reading.

The girl was ashamed of her mistake, and at once set it right, but it was soon followed by another. Norah turned over two pages at once and read on, quite unconscious that her blunder rendered a sentence absolute nonsense.

Again Mrs. Martin recalled her to herself in a patient, gentle way; but Norah still read in so dull and lifeless a manner, that it could be no pleasure to hear her.

"You may shut the book, Norah," said the lady; "perhaps yesterday's long walk has tired you; I will only have my evening chapter from the Bible; there is no reading like that."

Norah took up the blessed volume, and now her attention wandered no more. The chapter read was the 22d of St Luke. Conscious of her own backsliding, of the weakness which she had shown, of the evil intention which she had harboured after all her good resolutions, every verse which she read from the Bible seemed to Norah to convey a reproach. At last, when she came to Peter's assurance that he would fellow his Master to prison and to death, and the mournful warning which followed, Norah's voice failed her, and she paused for a minute to recover her own self-command.

"I am always thankful," said Mrs. Martin, "that St Peter's fall has been recorded in Scripture: it puts us on our guard against our own weakness; it shows us that even faith and love like his were not enough to guard him from sin in the hour of temptation."

"Then what can guard?" faltered Norah.

"The grace of God's Holy Spirit, which we must seek for by prayer. It was that grace which made Peter, who had thrice denied his Lord, afterwards boldly confess Him in the presence of Caiaphas himself! It was that grace that made Peter, who had been terrified at the words of a woman, afterwards nobly endure the terrible death of the cross! Without God's grace we can do nothing, with it we can do all things; His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Our daily prayer should be, 'Lord, give me thy Holy Spirit!' remembering the gracious promise, 'Ask, and it shall be given you.'" *

* Matt. vii. 7.

Norah read on to the end of the chapter in a low soft tone, and with a spirit humbled and subdued. Once again her voice failed her; it was at the words, the Lord turned and looked upon Peter! She thought what that look of love and pity must have been, how it must have thrilled to the heart of the backsliding disciple! And did not He who had watched the apostle, still mark the wanderings of His feeblest lamb; was He not still ready thus to guide by his eye the erring one who longed once more to return to the straight path of duty?

As soon as Norah's invalid mistress had retired to her early rest, Norah went to her own little room, not to prepare, as she had intended, to go out at night with her worthless companion, leaving the house exposed to robbers, and an aged lady in danger, if taken with sudden illness, of finding herself deserted, but to fall on her knees and ask forgiveness for the sinful purpose of her heart.

Norah could not have put her prayer into words, but her soul's pleading was something like this—

"Oh, Lord! Help me! Oh, Lord forgive me! I am a poor, foolish, sinful girl! The evil I would not, I do, and I leave my duties undone! Oh, give me Thy Holy Spirit; give me the breastplate of righteousness, strong and firm against every temptation, that I may know Thy will, and do Thy will, and follow my Saviour all my life, and be happy with Him for ever!"

A few minutes before the church-clock struck nine, a shadow fell on the pavement in front of Mrs. Martin's dwelling, and there was the sound of a low rap, as of a stealthy hand on the panel of the door, followed by an eager whisper, "Quick, Norah, quick, we are late."

The door unclosed but a few inches, the chain prevented its opening wider. Young Norah stood behind it, the glare of the street lamp showed her pale, agitated face.

"Oh, Sophy, don't be angry; I may not—must not come. I have written my reasons on the paper in which this book is wrapped up, take it, and oh, forgive me."

Norah drew back as if afraid of trusting herself to say more.

Sophy, disappointed and angry, had snatched the novel out of Norah's hand.

"I'll never believe, nor trust, nor speak to you again," she exclaimed, turning away with a burst of petty resentment.

Perhaps Sophy hoped to hear Norah's voice entreating her to return; she only heard the rattle of the chain, and the sound of the closing door. Something firmer than panel, and stronger than iron or steel, had been now raised to be a barrier between Norah Peele and her false friend.