Mrs. Cheriton looked so very youthful that it was hard for Marion to believe she could be the mother of Eugene. She was very beautiful, of the Southern type of beauty,—large, liquid eyes, regular features, abundant tresses of blue-black hair, which on the present occasion were wound gracefully around her head, arched eyebrows, and a pleasant smile when she addressed you. This tout ensemble the visitor took in at a glance, and all the time she was asking herself, "Shall I like her?" After speaking for a moment of Eugene, Marion said,— "Mr. Angus tells me your mother is very ill." "Yes; and she has heard your voice. Will you go to her?" "Gladly." On the bed, but raised almost to a sitting posture, lay a lady. One glance proved her to be such. There was an air of refinement and culture about her which proved her to belong to the best-educated class of society. She met Marion's sympathetic glance with an earnest gaze, as though she would read what manner of spirit she was of; then a beaming smile lighted her whole face, as she said softly,— "You are very welcome, my dear." "I felt then," said Marion afterwards to her aunt, "as though I could take her right into my heart of hearts." What she did at the moment to show what she felt was to bend over and press her lips to the pale cheek of the sufferer. A few words of explanation as to her present visit,—of sorrow that it must be a hurried one,—and then Marion said,— "I am sure you will not consider my question prompted by curiosity, if I ask, why are you here in this out-of-the-way part of the town?" "Necessity compels it, my dear. I need perfect quiet." "Would you prefer the city?" "Greatly, in many respects, if I were well." "You could have a physician near you there." "No physician can avail me now,—at least such is my belief." "Except the great Physician." An expression of heavenly peace stole over the wan face. She held Marion's hand in a closer grasp, as she said fervently,— "God be praised! He has applied healing balm. My sins, which were many, are forgiven. Oh, if you knew all, you would not wonder that I look forward with longing to the hour when he will call me home!" "You would feel like a poor sailor I found just redeemed from the very depths of woe. He was singing from morning to night,"— "'Love I much, I'm much forgiven; I'm a miracle of grace.'" Marion's clear voice as she sang the lines rang through the room. "Will you sing a hymn for me, Miss Howard?" Without a moment's hesitation the young began one which was a favorite with herself. "Whate'er my God ordains is right; His will is ever just; Howe'er he orders now my cause, I will be still and trust. He is my God: Though dark my road, He holds me that I shall not fall, Wherefore to him I leave it all. "Whate'er my God ordains is right; He never will deceive. He leads me by the proper path, And so to him I cleave, And take content What he hath sen His hand can turn my griefs away, And patiently I wait his day.