ay, while she said:

"If now, Miss Callender, you would--but may be you will think that it is
wicked also."

"Speak freely, dear," said Phillida, softly; "it will do you good to
tell me all--all that is in your heart."

"If you would only pray that I might die, then it would be granted
already, maybe. I am such a curse, a dreadful curse, to this house."

"No, no; you mustn't say that. Your sickness is a great misfortune to
your family, but it is not your fault. It is a greater misfortune to
you. Why should you pray to die? Why not pray to get well?"

"That is too hard, Miss Callender. If now I had but a little while been
sick. But I am so long. I can not ever get well. Oh, the medicines I
have took, the pills and the sarsaparillas and the medicine of the
German doctor! And then the American doctor he burnt my back. No; I
can't get well any more. It is better as I die. Pray that I die. Will
you not?"

"But if God can make you die he can make you well. One is no harder than
the other for him."

"No, no; not if I was but a little while sick. But you see it is years
since I was sick."

This illogical ground of skepticism Phillida set herself to combat. She
read from Wilhelmina's sheepskin-bound Testament, printed in parallel
columns in English and German, the story of the miracle at the Pool of
Bethesda, the story of the woman that touched the hem of the garment of
Jesus, and of other cures told in the New Testament with a pathos and
dignity not to be found in similar modern recitals.

Then Phillida, her soul full of hope, talked to Mina of the power of
faith, going over the ground traversed by Mrs. Frankland. She read the
eleventh of Hebrews, and her face was transformed by the earnestness of
her own belief as she advanced. Call it mesmerism, or what you will, she
achieved this by degrees, that Wilhelmina thought as she thought, and
felt as she felt. The poor girl with shaken nerves and enfeebled
vitality saw a vision of health. She watched Phillida closely, and
listened eagerly to her words, for to her they were words of life.

"Now, Mina, if you believe, if you have faith as a grain of mustard
seed, all things are possible."

The girl closed her eyes a moment, then she opened them with her face
radiant.

"Miss Callender, I do believe."

Already her face was changing under the powerful influence of the newly
awakened hope. She folded her hands peacefully, and closed her eyes,
whispering:

"Pray, Miss Ca