per had stirred a feeling in
Bettina's heart which she had not felt for so long a time--a
yearning tenderness for some object outside herself: a longing that
her health and strength might avail for others bereft of these
blessings. It was akin to the emotion she had felt by her mother's
dying bed, and as it swept over her she wept as she had not done
since she had knelt beside that sacred spot.

Instinctively now she fell upon her knees. She tried to pray--but for
what? She could not compose a form of prayer or articulate a definite
wish. All she could do was to pray to God--the God in whom her mother
had trusted--to give her this thing, this unknown boon which He knew
her passionate need of.

When she rose from her knees she put her hands to her head, and,
pressing her temples hard, looked about her, as if in search of some
object which might help her to the comprehension of her own mood.
Then, running her fingers inside the collar of her dress, she drew
out, by a slight chain, a small locket, which contained her mother's
picture and a lock of her white hair. It was a sort of talisman whose
mere touch gave her a sense of comfort. She did not open it now, but
held it between her palms and pressed her cheek against it, standing
there alone, and presently she whispered:

"What is it, mother darling? What is it that you seem trying to say
to me? Oh, if you can ever speak to me, speak now, and I will listen
as I did not do when you were here beside me! There is something that
I ought to do, and I am not doing it. There is something I am doing
which distresses you. That is the feeling that I have. Oh, my
mother--my lovely, precious, good, good mother--if I had you here,
you would tell me what it is that I ought to do--and I would do it!"

She ceased her half-inarticulate whispers, and stood intensely
still--almost, it seemed, as if she waited for an answer to them.

But there came no answer save the still, small voice within her soul,
which had so often tried to speak before, and which even yet she
could not, would not listen to.

This voice suggested to her with persistent iteration that she should
even now look strictly into the evidence which had so quickly
sufficed to convince her that the young and ardent lover who had
wooed her so passionately, and promised her such loyalty and faith
and devotion, had been false to his professions and his promises
alike.

Suppose she should investigate; suppose she should get