To her cousin she also explained why she did not as heretofore devote herself entirely to her society. "I have to take care of him, you know, because he has nobody but me. He doesn't look as sorry as he did. It always makes me cry to see tears roll down his cheeks." "Cry!" repeated Marion, quite shocked. "Yes; when we're praying to Jesus to make us good, he says we must always tell Jesus when we have been naughty, and He will forgive us right off." CHAPTER V. A HAPPY CHRISTIAN. FROM the first Marion had been agreeably impressed with Mr. Angus; though after hearing from Aunt Thankful of his first sermon and his cry for help after the evening service, agreed with her aged friend that he must have known real sorrow; sorrow from the effects of which he could not all at once rally. After hearing his prayers, it seemed to her impossible to believe that his sorrow was caused by any act of his own. If so, she was certain that it had been heartily repented of. The scene so innocently referred to by Ethel took hold of her imagination. In the solitude of his chamber he knelt, his little pet by his side, her hand held fast in his, while tears ran down his cheeks, as he implored forgiveness for past offences. Do what she Would, she could not shake off the memories of this scene. Marion was young in years, only twenty-three her next birthday; but her life had been an eventful one. Blessed with Christian parents, her opening mind eagerly imbibed the practical truths of the Bible. Jesus Christ was embraced as her Saviour from sin in this life, and from the punishment of sin in the life to come. God was to her a tender, loving Father, to whom she might go at any hour, with the same freedom as she approached her earthly father. She realized in an unusual manner His watchful providence, guiding and guarding her at every step of her young life. When at the age of seventeen she was bereft of both her earthly parents, she accepted in all their fulness the promises of God to the fatherless ones, and never had these gracious promises failed. Her education being incomplete, her guardian' sent her to New York City to the care of her father's sister, an amiable but thoroughly worldly woman. Mrs. Williamson considered her duty accomplished when she had seen her niece arrayed in the most becoming mourning attire, had entered her at a fashionable institution, and introduced her to her own select circle. But these surroundings, so unlike the quiet refinement of her own sweet home, instead of weaning the young orphan from the pure pleasures of a Christian life, left her with such a yearning for the society of those who sympathized in her dearest joys that she resolved to spend more time than ever in communion with her Saviour. Happy indeed are those who, losing Christian companionship, are driven for comfort to Christ himself. His love can so fill the soul thus depending on Him as to compensate for the loss of every earthly solace.