"God will take care of me," she said. "I am sure He will. It is of him I'm thinking. Now that he is away from bad people and can't get rum, it is such a nice time for him to become good. When he comes out of prison, if God wants me to go back to him, He will let me know it. Sometimes," she added, in a timid voice, "I think He will, because I promised for better, for worse, you know." "Would you live with him if he were to beat you and abuse you as he did before?" "Yes, ma'am, if I were sure God meant it so. I can never be as miserable again as I was before." "Why can't you?" "Because I have a friend now who would be close by me always." "You mean Jesus Christ." "Yes, ma'am. Even if he did get—get out of his mind with drink, and treat me unkindly, I would tell Jesus, and He would help me to forgive. If I never answered back and always tried to have a smile and the best home I could make for him, perhaps he might try to be better. Oh, I should be too happy!" She clasped her hands to her breast, and looked so like an innocent child in her perfect trust that Marion shed tears of delight. During the first week in September, Marion went to the Home for the Sick, to see Mary Falkner, who, with the aid of a cane, was able to walk the length of the ward. "Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed. "The doctors say, with the exception of a limp in my gait, I shall be as well able to walk as any one. They are all so kind to me. Who knows but I shall be able to do some church work in your parish?" "If you are able we will give you enough to do," answered Marion, blushing. On her way out the superintendent met her and asked her to step to the parlor for a moment. He took from his pocket a letter recently received, and handed it to her with an arch smile. Though he did not know, he suspected the truth of a rumor he had heard concerning her. The letter read as follows:— Dear Sir,— In memory of God's goodness to my deceased sister and to myself, while we were within the walls of the Home for the Sick, and in gratitude for the faithful care to our bodies and our souls, by pastor, chaplain, and nurses, I send you the enclosed check, which I think you once told me was the sum necessary to found a permanent bed in your blessed institution. That your labors may be as useful in the future as they have been in the past is the sincere prayer of a fellow-laborer in Christ's vineyard. HAROLD ANGUS. "The check was for five thousand dollars," added the gentleman. "It was an unexpected thank-offering, and we are very grateful for it." Marion expressed her pleasure, adding that Mr. Angus had told her how much he owed to the faithful teachings he received while in the Home. This seemed to our young friend to be a day to mark with a white stone, it was so full of blessings. When she reached home she found a letter from Mr. Lambert which overwhelmed her and sent her to her knees to thank God for answering her humble prayers.