“That is another thing people believed then—that God commanded things in that way, and that one would be disobeying Him not to do them. “My, but I was happy! I didn’t know till that instant that I cared so much for him. I must have fainted for a few minutes. When I came to, sis was there again with something damp on my face. At first I couldn’t see. I heard Hiliary say, ‘But what if it had been _you_?’ “‘I wouldn’t have had you,’ said sis. “‘You would have broken your word?’ “‘Certainly—rather than marry _you_!’ “‘Oh!’ “‘I’m looking for some one _better_ than you—_better_ in every way!’ “‘But you would have been going against God, maybe?’ “‘Not even then. I want some one—_better_!’ “But poor sis never found her better one—though I suppose there was one for her somewhere—as she deserved. For she couldn’t look for him nor see whether he was better or worse than Hiliary if he had come. She lost her sight. But I’m a little ahead of my story. “That night I heard sis saying strange things in her sleep and sobbing. She told me the next morning that it was for me—because we had to part—” “And you said,” the blind one interrupted, “that we should _never_ part.” “And you insisted that it was impossible to live together after I was married, that three was a crowd, and that you should go and keep house for brother Ben.” “I only said I should go mad.” “Yes, only think! What _could_ you have meant?” The knowledge of that would have to wait, too, until the heavens are rolled together as a scroll. “Anyhow, sis said—it was early in the morning and we were not dressed yet—that we had better go down and see how much was in the teapot, and we did. “There was not a cent in it! “We never knew when it had been stolen. Perhaps long before. But it was all gone!” VI SHE BELIEVED IN MIRACLES. DO YOU? She approached the next part of her story diffidently. “Maybe you will not care for the rest. I know you don’t believe in signs.” “But I do,” I protested. She brightened with delight. The blind one said nothing. I think her head bent a trifle lower. “And do you believe that God helps those who love Him when they are in distress?” “Yes,” I said, “and some who do not love Him as well as you do. He has helped _me_—when I did not deserve it.” She gazed a moment in wonder. “I don’t mean indirectly?” “Directly!” I said. “But you surely do not believe in”—she halted, ashamed of the ancient word for an instant, then bravely put it at me—“miracles”? “I have _seen_ miracles.” And I told her of some that I had seen. Do you suppose that I would cast a shadow of doubt upon so precious a heritage? A believer in miracles! I thanked God after I had heard the end of her story that I need not. Don’t _you_ believe in miracles? Don’t we all constantly expect the impossible? And if we do not believe in miracles, how can we expect that? And doesn’t the impossible often happen? Well then!