ssion of pity and
tenderness in his face.

"I did not know! I did not see her before, Court!" stammered Pat. "I
will take her somewhere else now before she has been disturbed."

"No, Pat, it's all right! It is fitting that she should come to us. I'm
glad you found her. You must have been led! Call Bonnie, please. And,
Pat, watch for Nelly and take him into my study. He was coming down on
the Boston express. Let me know as soon as he gets here."

Courtland went swiftly into the hospital. Pat looked after him for a
moment with a great light of love in his eyes, and realized for the
first time what was meant by the expulsive power of a new affection.
Court hadn't minded seeing Gila in the least on his own account. He was
only thinking of Tennelly. Poor Nelly! What would he do?

There was no hope for Gila from the first. There had been an injury to
the spine, and it was only a question of hours how long she had to stay.

It was Bonnie's face upon which the great dark eyes first opened in
consciousness again. Bonnie in soft, white garments sitting beside the
bed, watching. A strange contraction of fear and hate passed over her
face as she looked, and she spoke in an insolent, sharp little voice,
weak as a sick bird's chirp.

"Who sent you here?" she demanded.

"God," said Bonnie, gently, without an instant's hesitation.

A startled look came into Gila's eyes. "God! What does He want with me?
Has He sent you here to torment me? I know you, who you are! You are
that poor girl that Paul picked up in the street. You are come to pay me
back!"

Bonnie's face was full of tenderness. "No, dear! That is all passed.
I've just come to bring you a message from God."

"God! What have I to do with God?" A quiver of anguish passed over the
weird little face. "I hate God! He hates me! Am I dead, then, that He
sends me messages?"

"No, you are not dead. And God does not hate you. Listen! He says, 'I
have loved you with an everlasting love.' That's the message that He
sends. He is here now. He wants you to give attention to Him!"

The little blanched face on the pillow tightened and hardened in fear
once more. "That's that awful Presence again! The Presence! The
Presence! I've been trying to get away from it for three years, and it's
pursued me everywhere! Now I'm caught like a rat in a trap and can't get
away! If I'm not dead, then I must be dying, or you wouldn't dare talk
to me this awful way! _I am dying!_ And _you_ think _I