Miss Farwell's face shone now with that mother-look as she lowered her head until the sick girl could see straight into the deep gray eyes. The poor creature gazed hungrily--breathlessly. "Now don't you know that I care?" whispered the nurse, and the other burst into tears, grasping the nurse's hand in both her own and with a reviving hope clinging to it convulsively. "I'm not bad, nurse," she sobbed. "I have always been a good girl even when--when I was so hungry. But they--they talked so about me, and made people think I was bad until I was ashamed to meet anyone. Then they put me out of the church, and nobody would give me work in their homes, and they drove me away from every place I got, until there was no place but this, and I was so frightened here alone with all these negroes in the house. Oh nurse, I didn't want to do it--I didn't want to do it. But I thought no one cared--no one." "They did not mean to be cruel, dear," said the nurse softly. "They did not understand. You heard the minister say they would help you now." The girl gripped Miss Farwell's hand with a shudder. "They put me out of the church. Don't let them come, don't! Promise me you won't let them in." The other calmed her. "There, there dear, I will take care of you. And no one can put you away from God; you must remember that." "Is there a God, do you think?" whispered the girl. "Yes, yes dear. All the cruelty in the world can't take God away from us if we hold on. We all make mistakes, you know, dear--terrible mistakes sometimes. People with the kindest, truest hearts sometimes do cruel things without thinking. Why, I suppose those who crucified Jesus were kind and good in their way. Only they didn't understand what they were doing, you see. You will learn by-and-by to feel sorry for these people, just as Jesus wept over those who he knew were going to torture and kill him. But first you must get well and strong again. You will now, won't you dear?" And the whispered answer came, "Yes, nurse. I'll try now that I know you care." So the strong young woman with the face of the Mother Mary talked to the poor outcast girl, helping her to forget, turning her thoughts from the sadness and bitterness of her experience to the gladness and beauty of a possible future, until--when the sun lighted up the windows on the other side of the square with flaming fire, and all the sky was filled with the glory of his going--the sick girl slept, clinging still to her nurse's hand. In the twilight Miss Farwell sat in earnest thought. Deeply religious--as all true workers must be--she sought to know her part in the coming scenes of the drama in which she found herself cast.