Is not Miss Hamilton beautiful? I think she is almost as
beautiful as my picture of the Virgin Mary. I asked parson if he did not
think so, and he said yes. Do you think she will come again soon?'

'We shall see, Robbie dear.' But, as I spoke, something told me that we
should not see Miss Hamilton there again.

CHAPTER XIX

THE PICTURE IN GLADYS'S ROOM

The days flew rapidly by, and I was almost too busy to heed them as they
passed. Each morning I woke with fresh energy to my day's work; the hours
were so full of interest and varied employment that my evening rest came
all too soon. I grew so fond of my patients, especially of poor little
Robin, that I never left them willingly; and the knowledge that I was
necessary to them, that they looked to me for relief and comfort, seemed
to fill my life with sweetness.

As I said to myself daily, no one need complain that one's existence is
objectless, or altogether desolate, as long as there are sick bodies and
sick souls to which one can minister. For 'Give, and it shall be given
unto you,' is the Divine command, and sympathy and help bestowed on our
suffering fellow-creatures shall be repaid into our bosoms a hundredfold.
I was right in my surmise: Miss Hamilton did not again visit her little
scholar; but Lady Betty came almost daily, and was a great help in
amusing the child. I was with him for an hour in the morning, and again
in the late afternoon; but Mrs. Marshall took up the greater part of my
time; she was growing more feeble every day, and needed my constant care.
Unless it were absolutely necessary, I was unwilling to sacrifice my
night's rest, or to draw too largely on my stock of strength; but I had
fallen into the habit, during the last week or two, of going down to the
cottage in the evening about eight or nine, and settling her comfortably
for the night. I found these late visits were a great boon to her, and
seemed to break the length of the long winter night, and so I did not
regret my added trouble. Poor Phoebe had to be content with an hour
snatched from the busier portion of the day; but she was beginning to
occupy herself now. I kept her constantly supplied with books; and Miss
Locke assured me that she read them with avidity; her poor famished mind,
deprived for so many years of its natural aliment, fastened almost
greedily on the nourishment provided for it. From the moment I induced
her to open a book her appetite for reading returned, and s