"Yes, beat her, while she was in a fever of delirium, from which she has never rallied. She has never spoken rationally, since she was taken. Her constant prayer seems to be to see some particular person before she dies. "'Oh, if I could see him once more--there--there--that is him--no, no, he did not speak that way to me--he did not curse and beat me.' "Such is her conversation, and that induced her mother to send for me, but I was not the man. 'Will he come?' she says, every time I visit her; for, thinking to soothe and comfort her, I promised to bring him." We had reached the top of the stairs, and stood a moment at the open door, where sin and misery dwelt, where sickness had come, and where death would soon enter. "Will he come?" A faint voice came up from a low bed in one corner, seen by the very dim light of a miserable lamp. That voice. I could not be mistaken. I could not enter. Let me wait a moment in the open air, for there is a choking sensation coming over me. "Come in," said my friend. "Will he come?" Two hands were stretched out imploringly towards the Missionary, as the sound of his voice was recognised. "She is much weaker to-night," said her mother, in quite a lady-like manner, for the sense of her drunken wrong to her dying child had kept her sober, ever since she had been sick; "but she is quite delirious, and all the time talking about that man who spoke kindly to her one night in the Park, and gave her money to buy bread." "Will he come?" "Yes, yes; through the guidance of the good spirit that rules the world, and leads us by unseen paths, through dark places, for His own wise purposes, _he has come_." The little emaciated form started up in bed, and a pair of beautiful, soft blue eyes glanced around the room, peering through the semi-darkness, as if in search of something heard but unseen. "Katy, darling," said the mother, "what is the matter?" "Where is he, mother? He is here. I heard him speak." "Yes, yes, sweet little innocent, he is here, kneeling by your bedside. There, lay down, you are very sick." "Only once, just once, let me put my arms around your neck, and kiss you, just as I used to kiss papa. I had a papa once, when we lived in the big house--there, there. Oh, I did want to see you, to thank you for the bread and the cakes; I was very hungry, and it did taste so good--and little Sis, she waked up, and she eat and eat, and after a while she went to sleep with a piece in her hand, and I went to sleep; hav'n't I been asleep a good while? I thought I was asleep in the Park, and somebody stole all my corn, and my mother whipt me for it, but I could not help it. Oh dear, I feel sleepy now. I can't talk any more. I am very tired. I cannot see; the candle has gone out. I think I am going to die. I thank you; I wanted to thank you for the bread--I thought you would not come. Good bye--Sissy, good bye. Sissy--you will come--mother--don't--drink--any more--Mother--good b--."