The words were prophetic. The strain had been too great on Mr. Hart. That night he had a stroke of paralysis and became helpless. But he had trained his daughters to be the very reverse of helpless, and they did take care of him with the most devoted love and skilled practical energy, making the weak, brief remnant of his life not a burden, but a peaceful evening after a glorious day. They all, except the youngest, soon found employment, for they brought superior skill and knowledge to the labor market, and such are ever in demand. Annie soon married happily, and her younger sisters eventually followed her example. But Ella, the eldest, remained single; and, though she never became eminent as an artist, did become a very useful and respected teacher of art, as studied in our schools for its refining influence. To return to Edith, she felt for her kind friends almost as much as if she were one of the family. "Do not feel that you must go away because of what has happened," said Mrs. Hart. "I am glad to have you with us, for you do us all good. Indeed, you seem one of us. Stay as long as you can, dear, and God help us both to bear our burdens." "Dear, 'heavy-laden' Mrs. Hart," said Edith, "Jesus will bear the burdens for us, if we will let Him." "Bless you, child, I am sure He sent you to me." As Edith entered the ward that day, the attendant said, "She's herself, miss, at last." Edith stole noiselessly to Zell's cot. She was sleeping. Edith sat down silently and watched for her waking. At last she opened her eyes and glanced fearfully around. Then she saw Edith, and instantly shrank and cowered as if expecting a blow. "Zell," said Edith, taking the poor, thin hand, "Oh, Zell, don't you know me?" "What are you going to do with me?" asked Zell, in a voice full of dread. "Take you to my home--take you to my heart--take you deeper into my love than ever before." "Edith," said Zell, almost cowering before her words as if they hurt her, "I am not fit to go home." "Oh, Zell, darling," said Edith, tenderly, "God's love does not keep a debit and credit account with us, neither should we with each other. Can't you see that I love you?" and she showered kisses on her sister's now pallid face. But Zell acted as if they were a source of pain to her, and she muttered, "You don't know, you can't know. Don't speak of God to me, I fear Him unspeakably." "I do know all," said Edith, earnestly, "and I love you more fondly than ever I did before, and God knows and loves you more still." "I tell you you don't know," said Zell, almost fiercely. "You can't know. If you did, you would spit on me and leave me forever. God knows, and He has doomed me to hell, Edith," she added, in a hoarse whisper. "I killed him--you know whom. And I promised that after I got old and ugly I would come and torment him forever. I must keep my promise."