But remembering when anything happened to the widow, she always liked to hear her read some verses against which she had placed a mark in her Testament, she ran from the room to get it. Bob had only brought it to her the day before, and she had spelled over the words she was now about to read as soon as it came, for they brought to her mind the kind friend who had taught her all she knew. A well-worn, well-thumbed book it was, for it had been almost her only spelling book, and the leaf on which were the marked verses was worn thin by the travelling of the little finger over them. "I'm going to read something to you," said Milly, as she came back into the room again with the book in her hand. She perched herself on his knee and turned to the place. It opened almost of itself at the right chapter, and Milly knew each word of her favorite verse; but she placed her finger under each as she read: "'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.'" Eagerly did Dr. Mansfield's eyes follow the little finger, while his ears drank in the loving, soothing words. "I'm weary, weary," he sighed. "O that I could find this rest!" "Jesus will give it to you if you ask Him," said Milly, looking up from her book. "I know a place where it tells about that," she said. And she turned the leaves over until she found and read some more marked verses— "'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.'" Deeply did Dr. Mansfield ponder over these words. Could he ask for this rest that was offered? Conscience whispered of a dark deed in the past. Could he hope for this to be forgiven? When Milly went to bed, he asked her to lend him her book. And long after every one else was asleep, did he sit reading over again the verses she had read. Until at last, remembering the child's words and action of the morning, he again knelt down, and, almost for the first time in his life, prayed—prayed for pardon, and for strength to overcome the remembrance of what had driven him almost to the verge of insanity. The following morning he felt as little disposed to leave his room as he had done on the previous day. The depression of mind and the power of his old habit of shutting himself up and giving vent to his temper, was exercising its influence over him; stronger than ever, as it seemed to him. And he was about to repeat the order of the previous morning, when there arose up before him the vision of a little girl striving to overcome her anger, and meekly asking forgiveness. This recalled the hopes that had been raised the previous day; and why should he disdain to learn of this child? Why not copy her example? Yes, he would; he would at least try, as she was doing, to overcome some things, even if he could do no more.