made her so submissive
and patient in her sickness, so grateful for his care and kindness, so
anxious to do something in return. It was that love, illumined by a
higher light, which came in time to sanctify it, that gave her, while
yet a mere girl, a woman's courage, a woman's strength of heart and
self-denial. It was that which cheered the old man's latter years, and
shed joy on his dying bed.

Willie tried once or twice to stop the current of her abusive language;
but soon desisted, for she did not pay the least attention to him. He
could not help smiling at her childish wrath, nor could he resist
sympathising with her in a degree. But he was conscious that Gerty was
exhibiting a very hot temper, and began to understand what made
everybody think her so bad.

After Gerty had railed about Nan a little while, she stopped of her own
accord; though an unpleasant look remained on her countenance. It soon
passed away, however; and when, a little later in the evening, Mrs.
Sullivan appeared at the door, Gerty looked bright and happy, listened
with evident delight while True uttered warm expressions of thanks for
the labour which had been undertaken in his behalf, and, when Willie
went away with his mother, said her good night, and asked him to come
again so pleasantly, and her eyes looked so bright, that Willie said, as
soon as they were out of hearing, "She's a queer little thing, an't she,
mother? But I kind o' like her."

CHAPTER VI.

THE FIRST PRAYER.

It would have been difficult to find two children of the poorer class
whose situations in life had presented a greater contrast than those of
Gerty and Willie. Gerty was a neglected orphan; she had received little
of that care, and still less of that love, which Willie had enjoyed.
Mrs. Sullivan's husband was an intelligent country clergyman; but as he
died when Willie was a baby, leaving little property for the support of
his family, the widow and her child went home to her father. The old man
needed his daughter; for death had made sad inroads in his household
since she left it, and he was alone.

From that time the three had lived together in humble comfort, for,
though poor, industry and frugality secured them from want. Willie was
his mother's pride, her hope, her constant thought. She spared no care
to provide for his physical comfort, his happiness, and his education
and virtue.

She might well be proud of a boy whose uncommon beauty, winning
dispos