"That girl is nothing more or less than stubborn," I heard my father say one day to Teresa; which remark our old servant answered with a grimace behind his back. One day, Teresa with an air of triumph, showed us a New Testament on her return from town. Paula took it from her hand for a moment, and then returned it to our old servant after caressing the shining cover with great tenderness. "Take it," said Teresa, "it's not only mine, but yours, and you will have more time to read it than I will." "No, Teresa dear," and Paula sighed as she put her hands behind her back. "I know I'll get my Bible some day. That's what I've asked God for, and I know He answers prayer." A little later, Paula said to me, "I certainly would have loved that New Testament, for there are two or three favorite passages with which I would like to refresh my memory, but I simply can't deceive my uncle. But what am I going to do, Lisita? I must never forget what I promised papa when he died." (Never forget, never forget! was Paula's constant preoccupation.) But in spite of these problems which seemed to confront her, her perfect faith in God came to her aid, and seemed to give her wisdom to take the right road through it all. At times I would surprise her on her knees with her eyes closed and a certain strange indefinable light on her tear-stained face. Immediately however as she sensed my presence, she would spring to her feet and I found the same natural happy creature that I delighted to call my companion. It was not in vain that she prayed! Her God, whom she had not ceased to serve in the midst of the worldly atmosphere that surrounded her, seemed to come to comfort and strengthen her. Away off here in Villar, the little orphan was not forgotten. One day, to her great excitement, Paula received a letter, directed personally to her, from someone from her own beloved land. "What beautiful writing!" exclaimed Rosa. "Who could it be from?" "I think it must be from my god-mother," responded Paula, trembling with emotion. "Oh, do give me the letter, Rosa." Rosa, always full of fun, pretended to keep the letter, to the dismay of our small cousin, who didn't always see through our jokes, but finally yielded to her entreaties. "Wouldn't you like to read it to us, Rosa?" asked Paula, tearing open the envelope. "I find it much harder to read writing than printing." Rosa was only too glad to learn the secrets contained in such an unusual communication. And so this is what we heard as she read: "My dear god-daughter: I cannot tell you how dismayed I was on my return from Geneva to learn of the death of thy father. I know he is at peace in heaven, happy at the side of the Lord he so dearly loved. But it is for thee that my heart was torn with anguish. Canst thou imagine the pain that filled it when I found on my return to Villar, that both of you had gone from me?