"Yes, but her father never forgave her. Her mother I believe would take
her to her heart as readily as she ever did, but her husband has an iron
will and she has got to submit to him."

"Where do they live?"

"At No 200 Rouen St. but here we are at the door." Paul carried the
basket up stairs, and sat down quietly, while Belle prepared some
refreshing tea and toast for the feeble mother; and some bread and milk
for the hungry children.

"What shall I do?" said Belle looking tenderly upon the wan face, "I
hate to leave her alone and yet I confess I do not prefer spending the
night here."

"Of course not," said Paul looking thoughtfully into the flickering fire
of the grate.

"Oh! I have it now; I know a very respectable woman who occasionally
cleans out my store. Just wait a few moments, and I think I can find
her," said Paul Clifford turning to the door. In a short time he
returned bringing with him a pleasant looking woman whose face in spite
of the poverty of her dress had a look of genuine refinement which comes
not so much from mingling with people of culture as from the culture of
her own moral and spiritual nature. She had learned to "look up and not
to look down." To lend a helping hand wherever she felt it was needed.
Her life was spent in humble usefulness. She was poor in this world's
goods, but rich in faith and good works. No poor person who asked her
for bread ever went away empty. Sometimes people would say, "I wouldn't