"Is it for me? How can I thank you? For years everybody has made fun of me, for I never speak to anyone; preferring the company of animals to that of people." Paula had such a sympathetic way of getting at people's hearts, that instinctively she understood how lonely Louisa had been. "By the way," said Paula, "this is for your cat"--and she put two cents on the table. The old woman did not seem to understand. "It's for him, you know," said Paula, "you can buy some liver with this. Surely Cordero likes liver!" The pleasure in Louisa's eyes was almost childlike, as she addressed her cat saying, "You must thank this good mademoiselle," and Cordero jumped down and rubbed against Paula in a most affectionate manner. It was time to leave as the short day was ending and we had to be in the house before dark. "How can I thank you, mademoiselle?" said Louisa. "Do come to see me soon again, even though I am a poor old woman who nobody loves." "Oh, Louisa," exclaimed Paula, "there is One who loves you: don't you know Him?" Louisa shook her head sadly. "No, nobody loves me. And to tell you the truth, I don't love anyone else either." "The Lord Jesus loves you, Louisa." "The Lord Jesus? Tell me about Him, mademoiselle; I have heard the name--who is He?" "The Lord Jesus is He who died on the cross, that you might go to Heaven. He suffered much before He died. They despised Him. They beat Him. They spat in His face. Even His own friends deserted Him and He was so poor that He didn't have any place at night to lay His head. Yet, He was God Himself. He died for our sins--and He rose from the dead. He is now in Heaven, and He waits to receive you there, Louisa. None of us deserve to go to Heaven, but He who was so perfect suffered in our stead. He died for all of us sinners that we might be pardoned. I wish I could explain it better, much better, but Jesus loves you, Louisa. I know He loves you more than you could ever dream." Louisa's wrinkled face lighted with a smile; but she did not seem able to believe or comprehend this good news, which came to her, oh, so late in life. "Oh, if it were only true," she murmured, as she clasped her hands together and her eyes filled with tears. "But it is true, Louisa; don't you believe it? See here, He knows very well you live here alone with your cat, and that you are so sad, and that you have nobody else to care for you. He wishes to be your Friend, and He will be if you will ask Him. Why not ask Him now, Louisa?" "Oh, perhaps so, some day, mademoiselle." "Do it now, Louisa." "No, no; not now." "Oh, why not now, Louisa?" "Because I don't understand very well, mademoiselle. How could God love me, a poor, forlorn, useless old woman, who never loved Him, nor served Him. You come back again. Perhaps I'll end up by understanding better. And now, good-bye, mesdemoiselles. I have delayed you both too long." We shook hands with her. Oh, what a cold hand it was! The touch of it sent a shiver through me!