How long Ellen had lain there, or how long this would have gone on before her strength had been quite worn out, no one can tell. In one of these fits of forced quiet, when she lay as still as the rocks around her, she heard a voice close by say, "What is the matter, my child?" The silver sweetness of the tone came singularly upon the tempest in Ellen's mind. She got up hastily, and, brushing away the tears from her dimmed eyes, she saw a young lady standing there, and a face, whose sweetness well matched the voice, looking upon her with grave concern. She stood motionless and silent. "What is the matter, my dear?" The tone found Ellen's heart, and brought the water to her eyes again, though with a difference. She covered her face with her hands. But gentle hands were placed upon hers, and drew them away; and the lady, sitting down on Ellen's stone, took her in her arms; and Ellen hid her face in the bosom of a better friend than the cold earth had been like to prove her. But the change overcame her; and the soft whisper, "Don't cry any more," made it impossible to stop crying. Nothing further was said for some time; the lady waited till Ellen grew calmer. When she saw her able to answer, she said, gently — "What does all this mean, my child? What troubles you? Tell me, and I think we can find a way to mend matters." Ellen answered the tone of voice with a faint smile, but the words with another gush of tears. "You are Ellen Montgomery, aren't you?" "Yes, Ma’am." "I thought so. This isn't the first time I have seen you; I have seen you once before." Ellen looked up, surprised. "Have you, Ma’am? I am sure I have never seen you." "No, I know that. I saw you when you didn't see me. Where, do you think?" "I can't tell, I am sure," said Ellen, — "I can't guess; I haven't seen you at Aunt Fortune's, and I haven't been anywhere else." "You have forgotten," said the lady. "Did you never hear of a little girl who went to take a walk once upon a time, and had an unlucky fall into a brook, and then went to a kind old lady's house, where she was dried, and put to bed, and went to sleep?" "Oh, yes," said Ellen. "Did you see me there, Ma’am, and when I was asleep?" "I saw you there when you were asleep; and Mrs. Van Brunt told me who you were, and where you lived; and when I came here, a little while ago. I knew you again very soon. And I knew what the matter was, too, pretty well; but nevertheless, tell me all about it, Ellen; perhaps I can help you." Ellen shook her head dejectedly. "Nobody in this world can help me," she said. "Then there's One in heaven that can," said the lady, steadily. "Nothing is too bad for him to mend. Have you asked _His_ help, Ellen?" Ellen began to weep again. "Oh, if I could, I would tell you all about it, Ma’am," she said; "but there are so many things — I don't know where to begin — I don't know when I should ever get through." "So many things that trouble you, Ellen?" "Yes, Ma’am."