winsome her face had been before many tears washed its bloom away,
and much trouble made it old too soon.

Christie kept her word,--asked no questions, volunteered no
confidences, but heartily enjoyed the new friendship, and found that
it gave to life the zest which it had lacked before. Now some one
cared for her, and, better still, she could make some one happy, and
in the act of lavishing the affection of her generous nature on a
creature sadder and more solitary than herself, she found a
satisfaction that never lost its charm. There was nothing in her
possession that she did not offer Rachel, from the whole of her
heart to the larger half of her little room.

"I'm tired of thinking only of myself. It makes me selfish and
low-spirited; for I'm not a bit interesting. I must love somebody,
and 'love them hard,' as children say; so why can't you come and
stay with me? There's room enough, and we could be so cosy evenings
with our books and work. I know you need some one to look after you,
and I love dearly to take care of people. Do come," she would say,
with most persuasive hospitality.

But Rachel always answered steadily: "Not yet, Christie, not yet. I
've got something to do before I can think of doing any thing so
beautiful as that. Only love me, dear, and some day I'll show you
all my heart, and thank you as I ought."

So Christie was content to wait, and, meantime, enjoyed much; for,
with Rachel as a friend, she ceased to care for country pleasures,
found happiness in the work that gave her better food than mere
daily bread, and never thought of change; for love can make a home