ne? Will you take me back into the Refuge, if you
have any employment for me by which I may earn my shelter and my bread?

"Before the night comes I must leave the house from which I am now
writing. I have nowhere to go to. The little money, the few valuable
possessions I have, must be left behind me: they have been obtained
under false pretenses; they are not mine. No more forlorn creature
than I am lives at this moment. You are a Christian woman. Not for my
sake--for Christ's sake--pity me and take me back.

"I am a good nurse, as you know, and I am a quick worker with my needle.
In one way or the other can you not find occupation for me?

"I could also teach, in a very unpretending way. But that is useless.
Who would trust their children to a woman without a character? There is
no hope for me in this direction. And yet I am so fond of children! I
think I could be, not happy again, perhaps, but content with my lot, if
I could be associated with them in some way. Are there not charitable
societies which are trying to help and protect destitute children
wandering about the streets? I think of my own wretched childhood--and
oh! I should so like to be employed in saving other children from ending
as I have ended. I could work, for such an object as that, from morning
to night, and never feel weary. All my heart would be in it; and I
should have this advantage over happy and prosperous women--I should
have nothing else to think of. Surely they might trust me with the poor
little starving wanderers of the streets--if you said a word for me?
If I am asking too much, please forgive me. I am so wretched, madam--so
lonely and so weary of my life.

"There is only one thing more. My time here is very short. Will you
please reply to this letter (to say yes or no) by telegram?

"The name by which you know me is not the name by which I have been
known here. I must beg you to address the telegram to 'The Reverend
Julian Gray, Mablethorpe House, Kensington.' He is here, and he will
show it to me. No words of mine can describe what I owe to him. He has
never despaired of me--he has saved me from myself. God bless and reward
the kindest, truest, best man I have ever known!

"I have no more to say, except to ask you to excuse this long letter,
and to believe me your grateful servant, ----."

She signed and inclosed the letter, and wrote the address. Then, for
the first time, an obstacle which she ought to have seen before showe