These were Gatty's views--if she could be said to have any. How different from those of Mrs Dorothy Jennings! To her, God was the Creator, from whom, and by whom, and to whom, were all things: the Fountain of Mercy, who had so loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son for its salvation: the Father who, having loved her before the world was, cared for everything, however insignificant, which concerned her welfare. Christ was the Friend who sticketh closer than a brother--the Lamb who had been slain for her, the High Priest who was touched with every feeling of human infirmity. Heaven was the home which her Father had prepared for her. The Bible was the means whereby her Father talked with her; and prayer the means whereby she talked with Him. Salvation was her condition; holiness, her aim; faith, love, peace, the very breath she drew. While, in Gatty's eyes, all this was unknown and unreal, to Mrs Dorothy it was the most real thing in all the world. Gatty answered her friend's query by a puzzled look. "It comes in church," she said. "He is in the Creed, and at the end of the prayers. I don't know!" "Child," replied Mrs Dorothy, "you don't know Him. And, Mrs Gatty, my dear, you must know Him, if you are ever to be a happy woman. O poor child, poor child! To think that the Man who loved you and gave His life for you is no more to you than one of a row of figures, a name set to the end of a prayer!" Gatty was taken by surprise. She looked up with both unwonted emotion and astonishment in her eyes. "Mrs Dolly," she said, with feeling, "I cannot tell, but I think 'twould be pleasant to feel like you. It sounds all real, as if you had a live friend." "That is just what it is, my dear Mrs Gatty. A Friend that loves me enough to count the very hairs of my head,--to whom nothing is a little matter that can concern me. And He is just as ready to be your Friend too." "What makes you think so, Mrs Dolly?" "My dear, He died on purpose to save you." "The world, not me!" said Gatty. "If there had been no world but you," was the answer, "He would have thought it worth while." Gatty's answer was not immediate. When it came, it was-- "What does He want me to do?" "He wants you to give Him your heart," said the old lady. "Do that first, and you will very soon find out how to give Him your hands and your head." "And will He keep away my Lord Polesworth?" asked the girl, earnestly. "He will keep away everything that can hurt you. Not, maybe, everything you don't like. Sometimes 'tis just the contrary. The sweet cake that you like might harm you, and the physic you hate might heal you. If so, He will give you the physic. But, child, if you are His own, He will put the cup into your had with a smite which will make it easy to take." "I should like that," said Gatty, wistfully. "But could it be right to wed with my Lord Polesworth, when I could not love nor honour him in my heart at all?"