“The good Word comforts each of these classes,” was her only answer. “If they are truly sorry they will be forgiven.” Marion’s next remark showed that she was thinking more than listening. “Society is all to blame,” she said, very soberly. “If conditions were right, there would be very few criminals, and none, I am sure, of the last class I mentioned. If you could only read the Bible to our lawmakers, madam, and to the rich men and women who are mighty and all powerful.” The woman smiled and looked at her curiously. “Perhaps you are right,” she said, after a minute, “but we should rise above conditions and not be slaves to them.” “That is easier said than done,” said Marion, sharply. “When a man’s strength is deficient he is not to blame for it.” “They should have prayed for strength,” said the woman, devoutly, “and at any rate they should not have fallen into sin. It is their own fault that they are here doing penance for their wickedness.” “Well, I am very sorry for them, anyway,” replied Marion, quickly, “and I sincerely hope that you are able to comfort them, madam. To me they look like poor creatures who have never had half a chance. No doubt they would all have been honest if they could have earned decent livings.” She turned abruptly on her heel and walked away. Some way, it vexed her to hear this woman blaming the poor creatures. “Probably she was never hungry or in want in her life,” she thought, angrily, “so what can she know of the temptations they have suffered?” This glimpse of misery was making Marion depressed already. The faces of the men haunted her, they were so pinched and eager. She wandered across the boat and stood looking over the water, her brain busy with the problems of how to help the poor creatures. The woman did not come near her and Marion was glad of it. She wanted to be alone and do a little hard thinking. “I may be wrong in pitying them, but I can’t help it,” she thought. “I am sure the struggle of life has been too hard for many of them. I suppose that woman thinks I am a heathen, because I did not say I thought they deserved what they were getting.” A light ripple of laughter relieved her over-strained tension and for the next few minutes the woman was forgotten. Marion watched the prisoners land, with the guards beside them, and then as they marched slowly toward the penitentiary, she left the boat and started for the hospital. It was all so strange, so almost alarming, this guarding and marching, that for a minute she felt a sense of oppression in her soul. It was as though she were breathing the air of a prison cell rather than the breath of sweet liberty, which was her rightful possession. CHAPTER X. MARION’S FIRST WEEK AT CHARITY. In less than a week Marion began to feel quite at home in the big hospital, whose windows overlooked a scene of magnificence as well as much that was less inspiring.