“Heaven grant you may,” exclaimed Pansy, but when she looked at the wan cheeks and sunken eyes of the hapless lady it seemed to her that Mrs. Beach could not live much longer, even in this charming climate. “And when she dies I shall be thrown homeless upon the world again,” she thought, with a shudder of fear and terror. Perhaps Mrs. Beach thought of this, too, for she took a deep interest in her fair young companion. One day she said gravely to Pansy: “Do you ever expect to marry, Pansy?” Pansy grew crimson first, then deadly pale. “No, never. I hate men!” she exclaimed, with such energy that Mrs. Beach, a keen student of human nature, exclaimed: “Ah, then, you have had a lover?” Pansy saw that she had betrayed herself by her vehemence, and, hanging her head bashful she sighed: “Yes, I had a lover once, and he proved false to me. No one else shall ever make love to me again.” “Poor child!” said the lady compassionately. She remained silent a few moments, then said: “I hope you will not think me a meddlesome old lady, Pansy, but I have been thinking of your future. If I should die, what would become of you?” Pansy burst into passionate tears. “I should never find such a noble friend again,” she sobbed. “I have been thinking of that,” said Mrs. Beach, laying her thin hand gently on the bowed head. “Your future has been on my mind for some time. You ought to be learning something by which you could support yourself. There are many avenues of support open to women now.” “Oh, I know it, but I have had no chance to learn anything. Dear, noble friend, if only you could suggest something!” cried Pansy gratefully. “I will think over it a few days, and then advise you,” answered Mrs. Beach gravely. And at the end of a week she told Pansy that she believed that typewriting would prove a remunerative business for a young girl. “I will purchase a good machine, and you shall learn,” she said kindly. “Oh, how kind you are to me! I wish I knew how to thank you for all your goodness,” cried the poor girl, with tears of gratitude. Mrs. Beach smiled and answered: “Only stay with me while I live, Pansy, and I shall be well rewarded. After all, my kindness to you is only a species of selfishness, for I wish to have you with me. It brightens my lonely life to have the beautiful face of a young girl about me all the time.” They stayed in San Diego a year, and every month made the exquisite place more dear to them. Pansy worked industriously at her typewriting machine, and became quite proficient; but she did not neglect her kind benefactress. It was both her duty and her pleasure to add as much of happiness as possible to the life of the suffering invalid. In doing so she reaped the rich reward of those who try to lighten the sorrows of others, for she had less time to think of her own, and in consequence was far less unhappy.