"I will pass over some months, during which little of importance happened. Mr. Soudin, always a weak man, and having now little to occupy his time, fell more and more into the habit of drinking. He had for years taken more than was good for him, but not in a way to cause remark, his head suffering less than his body. But now, being much alone, he frequently overstepped the line of orthodox sobriety--a line which society draws in this case, as in all others, where its own convenience is affected. "Fortunately for Vera she had at last found a companion who was in every way worthy of her affection. Agnes Thomson was at this time about thirty, and had little physical beauty, though her eyes and expression redeemed her from plainness. She possessed one of those natures which seem created from birth to minister to others, and are never so happy as when occupied in relieving distress, or in making the lives of those around them brighter. When in the presence of such we are unconscious of effort, see no strain of renunciation; they minister to those around them, as the bird feeds its young--because they want to. Such persons, though often imposed on, are seldom appreciated at their true worth, on account of the high quality of their natures. I have even heard it said, ’Oh, there is no merit in such unselfishness--she cannot help it.’ But what an unconscious tribute to the soul is this! And what has such a spirit passed through before it so perfectly reflects its Maker! "It was chiefly owing to my action that this girl went to Somerville. She had broken down while looking after an orphanage in Manchester, and the doctor had said that it was absolutely imperative that she should give up all work for some time. She dreaded the idea of parting from the little children, and struggled as long as possible; but the body at last gave in, and I was then able, by indirect influence, to bring her and Vera together. As soon as Agnes came to live with the beautiful young girl, she loved her as she had loved her orphan children, and indeed as she would have loved any man, woman, or child, good or bad, fair or ugly. She saw that her companion was suffering, and had little difficulty in drawing from her the story of her life; and Agnes wept with her, feeling all the time as if she had been in the young girl’s place. When she came to think over it afterwards, what she called her conscience reproved her for not having even remonstrated. How wrong it all was! And she felt that she ought to have given reproof. Fortunately she never acted down to her conscience, which being an illuminated reflection from the creed of lesser minds, would only have retarded her influence. She taught her lessons, without knowing it, by the example of her own life.