Once in her own chamber, she locked the door and, not waiting to remove her hat, tore off the envelope; and there, written in a feeble hand, was the address,—"Harold Angus, formerly of Doncaster, Yorkshire, England." She fell on her knees, and thanked God. A strange calm stole over her, as she began to realize that it was her privilege to lift the heavy burden from one whom she so greatly respected, so admired for his many noble qualities. She summoned James, and sent him off to the telegraph office with this message:— REV. HAROLD ANGUS, Grantbury, Conn. Please take the afternoon train, 2:50, for this city. A carriage will meet you at the station. MARION HOWARD. CHAPTER XV. A SAD STORY. To describe the scene which followed, I will quote from the words of an eminent author. "Have you ever watched the sun rise upon a landscape that has been, but a few moments before, a world of gray and black shadows? Have you seen the rosy flush of dawn creeping in lines of tender light across the hills, and shining down into the valleys?" If you have seen this beauteous birth of day, and felt its full significance of life renewed, then your imagination can fancy the dawn of the new and perfect joy with which the young pastor received the intelligence contained in the letters. "I have come at your call," he had said, as he entered her parlor, where she met him with outstretched hands. Looking full into his face she saw there the change of which Annie had written. His eyes shone with a quiet courage, more touching than the wildest despair. It was as though he had said, "My Father has sent me a cross. I will bear it manfully, looking to Him for strength." Marion had been for hours planning how she would break the news to the pastor. All was forgotten now. Her voice rang with joy, as she said,— "I have news for you,—good news. I knew your Stella. She gave me this for you. Only this morning I first knew the address." She put the precious parcel in his hands, adding, "When you have read it, I will come back and tell you of her happy death. Please touch the bell when you are ready." It was more than an hour before the signal was given. When she re-entered the parlor his face bore the marks of deep emotion; but the new light I have described at the beginning of my chapter was shining from it. "Have you read this?" he asked, leading her to a seat, and taking one beside her,—"No, I do not mean that,—did she tell you?" "When I first found her, she talked of one who had blighted her life. She never named you. I had no idea she alluded to a brother. After she went to the Home she became a humble Christian, loving and tender to every one."