Amazed, terrified, Kate stood up erect, and stared with parted lips at the strange intrusion. What could it mean? The hand was that of a woman, and there were rings on the fingers. It was but a moment that she had time to mark these things; for before she could recover from her surprise, the mysterious hand had dropped the book into the room, and with it one of its rings, which rolled towards the hearth, sparkling as it went. Then there was a rapid retreat of quiet footsteps outside, and all was still again. Taking up the ring, which had a red stone in the centre like a ruby, and was seemingly of considerable value, after examining it for a moment, she put it into her pocket, and then picked up the little book, which lay on the floor where it had fallen, just underneath the window. She knew what it was in a moment,--a small Bible. It was very old, and very much worn, and had clearly done good service to its owner, or owners, for many a long year. Sitting by the cradle, and rocking it with one hand, she held the little volume in the other, and closely examined it. The paper of which it was made was coarse, and the printing old- fashioned. On the inside of the stiff cover was written in faded ink:-- _Steal not this book for fear of shame_, _For here you see the owner's name_. _June 10, 1798_. _Mary Williams_. Kate's perplexities only increased. But now her attention was drawn to the words themselves of the book. As she turned over page after page, she noticed that all the most striking texts were underlined with red- ink, especially those which spoke of help in trouble, and of the mercy and love of God. Her attention was now thoroughly aroused. Verse after verse was read by her, with tearful eyes and a heart opening itself to the sunshine of divine love; while every fresh text, as she turned from leaf to leaf, seemed more and more appropriate to her own troubles and sorrows. Could this be the same Bible which she used to read in the Sunday- school, and hear read at church? She could scarcely believe it. It seemed now as if this were altogether another book, just written and printed expressly for her, to meet her case. All the once familiar passages and verses had new life and light in them now. The baby stirred; she hushed it back to sleep. The fire burned low, but she read on,--she was living out of herself.