With a strange blending of pathos and reproach in her tone, Edith answered: "Oh, how can YOU, with your big, kind heart, that yearned over a poor unknown girl that dreadful night when you brought me home--how can you think so poorly of your Saviour? Is your heart warmer--are your sympathies larger than His? Why, He died for us, and, when dying, prayed for those who crucified Him. Could you turn away a poor, sorrowing, burdened creature that came pleading to you for help? You know you couldn't. Learn from your own heart something of His. Listen, I haven't told you all. It seems as if I never could tell all about Him. But see how He feels about poor lost Zell, when I, her own sister, was almost hating her," and, reaching her hand to the table, she took her Bible and read Christ's words to "a woman of the city, which was a sinner." At this Mrs. Groody broke down completely, and with clasped hands and streaming eyes, cried: "I will go to Him; I will fear and doubt no more." A trembling hand was now laid on Edith's shoulder, and, looking up, she saw Mrs. Lacey standing by her side with a face so white, so eager, so full of unutterable longing, that it might have made a Christian artist's ideal of a soul famishing for the "Bread of Life." In a low, timid, yet thrilling tone, she asked: "Miss Allen, do you think He would receive such as me?" "Yes, thus," cried Edith, as with a divine impulse and a great yearning pity she sprang up and threw her arms around Mrs. Lacey. Hope dawned in the poor worn face like the morning. Belief in God's love and sympathy seemed to flow into her sad heart from the other human heart that was pressed against it. The spiritual electric circle was completed--Edith, with her hand of faith in God's, took the trembling, groping hand of another and placed it there also. Two great tears gathered in Mrs. Lacey's eyes, and she bowed her head for a moment on Edith's shoulder, and murmured, "I'll try--I think I may venture to Him." Hannibal now appeared at the door, saying, rather huskily and brokenly, considering his message: "Miss Edie, you'se mudder's awake, an' 'd like some water." "That's what we all have been wanting, 'water'--'the water of life,'" said Mrs. Groody, wiping her eyes, "and never was my parched old heart so refreshed before. I don't care how hot this summer is, or how aggravatin' things are, I feel as if I'd be helped through it. And, my dear, good-night. I come here to try to do you good, and you've done me more good than I ever thought could happen again. I'm goin' to kiss you--I can't help it. Good-by, and may the good Lord bless your sweet face;" and Mrs. Groody, like one of old, climbed up into her chariot, and "went on her way rejoicing." In their close good-night embrace, Laura whispered, "I begin to understand it a little now, Edie, but I think I see everything only through your eyes, not my own." "As old Malcom said to me the other day, so now I say to you, 'Ye'll learn it a' soon.'"