"She said Aunt Fortune left her to take care of me." "That's one of her lies. Your aunt's gone out, I know; but she's a trifle wiser than to do such a thing as that. She has plagued you badly, han't she?" He might have thought so. The colour which excitement brought into Ellen's face had faded away, and she had settled herself back against her pillow with an expression of weakness and weariness that the strong man saw and felt. "What is there I can do for you?" said he, with a gentleness that seemed almost strange from such lips. "If you would," said Ellen, faintly, — "if you _could_ be so kind as to read to me a hymn — I should be so glad. I've had nobody to read to me." Her hand put the little book towards him as she said so. Mr. Van Brunt would vastly rather any one had asked him to plough an acre. He was to the full as much confounded as poor Ellen had once been at a request of his. He hesitated, and looked towards Ellen, wishing for an excuse. But the pale little face that lay there against the pillow — the drooping eyelids — the meek, helpless look of the little child, put all excuses out of his head; and though he would have chosen to do almost anything else, he took the book, and asked her "Where?" She said, "Anywhere;" and he took the first he saw. "Poor, weak, and worthless though I am, I have a rich, almighty Friend; Jesus the Saviour is his name, He freely loves, and without end." "Oh," said Ellen, with a sigh of pleasure, and folding her hands on her breast, — "how lovely that is!" He stopped and looked at her a moment, and then went on with increased gravity — "He ransom'd me from hell with blood, And by his pow'r my foes controll'd; He found me wand'ring far from God, And brought me to his chosen fold." "Fold?" said Ellen, opening her eyes; "what is that?" "It's where sheep are penned, ain't it?" said Mr. Van Brunt, after a pause. "Oh, yes!" said Ellen; "that's it; I remember; that's like what he said — 'I am the good shepherd,' and 'the Lord is my shepherd;' I know now. Go on, please." He finished the hymn without more interruption. Looking again towards Ellen, he was surprised to see several large tears finding their way down her cheeks from under the wet eyelash. But she quickly wiped them away. "What do you read them things for," said he, "if they make you feel bad?" "Feel bad!" said Ellen. "Oh, they don't; they make me happy; I love them dearly. I never read that one before. You can't think how much I am obliged to you for reading it to me. Will you let me see where it is?" He gave it her. "Yes, there's his mark!" said Ellen, with sparkling eyes. "Now, Mr. Van Brunt, would you be so very good as to read it once more?" He obeyed. It was easier this time. She listened, as before, with closed eyes, but the colour came and went, once or twice. "Thank you, very much," she said, when he had done. "Are you going?" "I must; I have some things to look after." She held his hand still.