"Ah, so you did! Strange that I should have forgotten. The accident! Think you it was an accident? She said he was chopping wood, but my husband says he gets fits of delirium tremens, and does damage to himself and others. He has been an artist; but Adolphe thinks that the sister knew, when she brought him here, that she was bringing him to die." Adrienne heard no more, for Madame Caillot was called away, but she thought much of the brother and sister in their trouble, and wondered if she could help them in any way. When she called upon Agatha the next day, she mentioned them to her. To her surprise she learnt that Agatha had already received a visit from Miss Preston. It appeared that a young peasant woman who knew Agatha well was attending upon them. And Miss Preston had been advised to go to Marie for some cooling medicine which had a wonderful effect in cases of fevers. When she came, Marie had brought her into the sick girl's room. "Mademoiselle," said Agatha in her sweet grave voice, "there is one thing I am never permitted to do—to talk about my visitors, to tell their troubles to others. But I will say this to you. Mademoiselle Preston is a heavy-laden soul, and she is a brave one, though she expends her strength needlessly. For cannot our burdens be rolled upon the shoulders of the One who holds the world in the hollow of His hand?" "I am sure you comforted her, Agatha." "Nay," said Agatha, looking out of her window dreamily; "at times it hurts to probe for the thorn. And troubles and cares harden the soul more than pleasures, Mademoiselle." Adrienne was silent. Presently she said: "You have made me think, Agatha. I have passed my years very pleasantly and easily, with just enough religion to take me to church, and to say my daily prayers. I have done it from habit or from duty. But I have gone no further. I worship afar off. I do not know Christ as my near and dear Friend as you do. I don't think I ever shall be so good as that." Agatha turned to her with her radiant smile. "It is not the good ones that our Lord covets for His Friends. It is the lowly and contrite heart that is His chosen habitation. You are losing happiness, that is all I can say. Happiness that stays, and deepens, and never dims." "I should like to know Him like that," was Adrienne's wistful reply. "You will, dear Mademoiselle. Just a quiet talk with Him about the big need in your life, the union with Him. He died to join earth to heaven, the sinner to his Saviour." She said little more. Agatha's words were always few, that was why they were remembered. But when Adrienne got up to go, she said: "I expect you to come to me next time with your happy soul shining through your eyes. May I say, I expect to see signs of our dear Lord's presence within!" "Oh, Agatha, I'm cold and far away, but I'm reading my Bible. I should like to get nearer if I could."