ot at all like the girl of whom he was in search. He
jotted them down in his note-book, however, with a feeling that they
might be a last resort.

As he turned the pages of the 'phone-book his eye caught the name of the
city's morgue, and a sudden horror froze into his mind. What if
something had happened to her and she had been taken there? What if she
had ended the life which had looked so lonely and impossible to her? No,
she would never do that, not with her faith in the Christ! And yet, if
her vitality was low, and her heart was taxed with sorrow, she would
perhaps scarcely be responsible for what she did.

He rang up the morgue sharply and put tense, eager questions.

Yes, a young woman had been brought in about an hour ago.... Yes,
dressed in black--had long light hair and was slender. "_Some looker!_"
the man who answered the 'phone said.

Courtland shuddered and hung up. He felt that he must go to the morgue.

When they entered the gruesome place of the unknown dead, although the
Presence entered with him, yet he felt that it was there already,
standing close among the dead; had been there when they came in!

Courtland's face was white, and set as he passed between the silent dead
laid out for identification. An inward shudder went through him as he
was led to the spot where lay the latest comer, a slim young girl with
long golden hair, sodden from the river where she had been found, her
pretty face sharpened and coarsened by sin.

He drew a deep breath of relief and turned away quickly from the sight
of her poor drowned eyes, rejoicing that they had not been the eyes of
Bonnie. It was terrible to think of Bonnie lying so, all drenched and
her spirit put out. He was glad he might still think of her alive, and
go on searching for her. But a dart of pain went through his heart as he
looked again at this little wreck of womanhood, going out of a life that
had dealt hardly with her; where she had reached for brightness and
pleasure, and had found ashes and bitterness instead. Going into a
beyond of darkness, hoping, perhaps, for no kindlier hands to greet her
than those that had been withheld from her in this world! What would the
resurrection mean to a poor little soul like that? What could it mean?
Ah! Perhaps it had not all been her fault! Perhaps there were others who
had helped push her down, smug in self-righteousness, to whom the
resurrection would be more of a horror than to the pretty, ignorant
chil