someone to love."

Stella's lips were quivering. She turned her face aside. "Life is very
difficult," she said.

"It gets simpler as one goes on, dear," Mrs. Ralston assured her gently.
"Not easy, oh no, not easy. We were never meant to make an easy-chair of
circumstance however favourable. But if we only press on, it does get
simpler, and the way opens out before us as we go. I have learnt that at
least from life." She paused a moment, then bent suddenly down and spoke
into Stella's ear. "May I tell you something about myself--something I
have never before breathed to any one--except to God?"

Stella turned instantly. "Yes, tell me!" she murmured back, clasping
closely the thin hand that had so tenderly stroked her own.

Mrs. Ralston hesitated a second as one who pauses before making a
supreme effort. Then under her breath she spoke again. "Perhaps it will
not interest you much. I don't know. It is only this. Like you, I
wanted--I hoped for--a child. And--I married without loving--just for
that. Stella, my sin was punished. The baby came--and went--and there
can never be another. I thought my heart was broken at the time. Oh, it
was bitter--bitter. Even now--sometimes--" She stopped herself. "But no,
I needn't trouble you with that. I only want to tell you that very
beautiful flowers bloom sometimes out of ashes. And it has been so with
me. My rose of love was slow in growing, but it blossoms now, and I am
training it over all the blank spaces. And it grew out of a barren soil,
dear, out of a barren soil."

Stella's arms were close about her as she finished. "Oh, thank you," she