her image
as she was--the glorious face and head, the queenly form, in its plain
but graceful robe of I know not what--gray serge, perhaps.

Her whole presence--her countenance, manner and tone revealed the
richness, strength and serenity of a faithful, loving, self-denying,
God-reliant soul--of one who could recall the past, endure the present,
and anticipate the future without regret, complaint or fear.

Sometimes the lady's soft eyes would lift themselves from her work to
rest with tenderness upon the form of a little child, so small and still
that you would not have noticed her presence but in following the lady's
loving glance. She sat in a tiny rocking chair, nursing a little white
rabbit on her lap. She was not a beautiful child--she was too diminutive
and pale, with hazy blue eyes and faded yellow hair; yet her little face
was so demure and sweet, so meek and loving, that it would haunt and
soften you more than that of a beautiful child could. The child had been
orphaned from her birth, and when but a few days old had been received
into the "Children's Home."

Marian never had a favorite among her children, but this little waif was
so completely orphaned, so desolate and destitute, and withal so puny,
fragile and lifeless that Marian took her to her own heart day and
night, imparting from her own fine vital temperament the warmth and
vigor that nourished the perishing little human blossom to life and
health. If ever a mother's heart lived in a maiden's bosom, it was in
Marian's. As she had cherished Miriam, she now cherished Angel, and she
was as fondly loved by the one as she had been by the other. And so for
five years past Angel had been Marian's inseparable companion. She sat
with her little lesson, or her sewing, or her pet rabbit, at Marian's
feet while she worked; held her hand when she walked out, sat by her
side at the table or in the carriage, and slept nestled in her arms at
night. She was the one earthly blossom that bloomed in Marian's solitary
path.

Angel now sat with her rabbit on her knees, waiting demurely till Marian
should have time to notice her.

And the lady still worked on, stopping once in a while to smile upon the
child. There was a file of the evening papers lying near at hand upon
the table where she wrote, but Marian had not yet had time to look at
them. Soon, however, she had occasion to refer to one of them for the
names of the members of the Committee on Public Lands. In cast