"Certainly. And in the pleasure you will have in telling her the good news, you will forgive an old friend of your father for making a careful diagnosis of your heart." He gave her another quizzical glance and turned away. "How absurd he is!" murmured the young lady. "How could I have been betrayed into such nonsense? I wonder whether he was in earnest, in saying he knew any one to whom the description would fit. He would be a wonder of goodness, and I—" Here Marion astonished the faithful old horse, who was going on in his quiet jog, by a sudden jerk of the lines and a peremptory order to quicken his pace. On consulting her watch, she found it nearly five o'clock. She must call at the thread and needle store, give Mary the joyful hope recovery, and then hasten home. To one who is always looking to her Father in heaven for the gifts which flow into her daily life it is not surprising, but only an increased reason for gratitude, when unlooked-for mercies are bestowed. So it was with the poor cripple. As Marion cautiously conveyed to her the opinion of Dr. Moore that her suffering might be relieved, and in time perhaps she might be restored to active life and its duties, the quick gasp, the tightened clasp of her emaciated hands, the moistened eye raised in silent gratitude to God, were the only tokens of the fervent thankfulness which almost overcame her. When Marion had explained the doctor's view of her case, she went on: "You must give your pastor the credit of the plan. He was just sending a telegram to the Home when I met him at the station, and— and"—she hesitated, surprised at herself for her reluctance to talk of Mr. Angus—"he offered to bear all the expense of having you conveyed to New York. But I speedily convinced him that I had the first claim to that privilege." "How good God is, raising up friends for me on every side!" "Good by, Mary, for the present. I shall expect to see you very soon in one of the nice beds at the Home for the Sick." CHAPTER X. A RAY OF HOPE. THE family were all seated at the tea-table when Mr. Angus came in from the street. He apologized for being behind time by saying that a parishioner had sent for him, and it was a longer walk than he expected. His countenance bore marks of excitement, but he entered into conversation with the others, and seemed desirous of averting attention from himself. After family prayer, which directly followed supper, he rose as though he was going to retire when Ethel caught his hand, saying,— "My Marion is going to sing a hymn before I go to bed. Please stay and hear it." Marion had already commenced, and, without noticing who was near her, went through the hymn. "We give thee but thine own, Whate'er the gift may be, All that we have is Thine alone, A trust, O Lord, from Thee. "May we Thy bounties thus As stewards true receive. And gladly as Thou blessest us, To Thee our first-fruits give.