Clemence’s performance seemed to give satisfaction, although she did not play as well as usual.  After a few more questions, the lady asked the gentleman if she had not better engage the services of this young person at once.

“By all means,” he said with emphasis; “I have no doubt that the young lady will give perfect satisfaction.”

Clemence again felt grateful for his kindness.  She had learned to appreciate and value a word of sympathy or encouragement.  Poor child! she received few enough of them now.

“Very well, you can come to-morrow.  The children have been for some time without a teacher, and I wish them to commence upon a course as soon as possible.”

Then, after a few remarks, and the mention of a salary, which seemed princely to Clemence, she was shown to the door by a liveried servant, and found herself walking homeward anxious to communicate this joyful intelligence to her mother.

“I declare, it’s a burning shame,” said the motherly landlady, on being told of her success—­“a real lady like you; it’s dreadful to think of.”

“Why, Mrs. Mann,” said Clemence, in dismay, “I thought you would be pleased.  Only six hours of work each day, and I can have so much time to spend with mamma.  I consider myself a wonderfully fortunate girl.  The salary, too, is so liberal, that I can afford now to get the comforts that our dear invalid is pining for.”

“Well, I don’t want to discourage you, dear,” said Mrs. Mann.  “You are a good girl, Clemence Graystone.  The Lord’s on your side, and He’ll take care of you, if you trust Him, as He has watched over all the ups and downs of my life, till I’m an old woman.  It’s the poor, and friendless, and desolate that He pities and loves, and He will protect you, my darling, wherever you may be, if you only trust to His guidance.”

“I believe that, Mrs. Mann,” said Clemence, “and it’s the one thought that keeps me from repining at my hard lot.  I believe, too, that ’the Lord helps those who help themselves,’ and I don’t mean to sit down in idleness.”

“Heaven grant you prosperity,” said the good woman.  “Now go and comfort the mother, for she needs it sadly.”

Work proved, as Clemence had anticipated, a real blessing.  Some of the happiest hours she had known, since her deep affliction, were passed in the school-room with her young charges.  She felt now as if she was of some use in the world, and when, after the lessons were finished, she went home to the fond mother, who awaited her coming, she realized, with thankfulness, that, through her exertions, want had been kept from the door, and the uncomplaining invalid supplied with the comforts, and even luxuries, to which she had been accustomed.