ever!"

Then Christie, remembering only that they were two loving women,
alone in a world of sin and sorrow, took Rachel in her arms, kissed
and cried over her with sisterly affection, and watched her
prayerfully, as she went away to begin her hard task anew, with
nothing but the touch of innocent lips upon her cheek, the baptism,
of tender tears upon her forehead to keep her from despair.

Still cherishing the hope that Rachel would come back to her,
Christie neither returned to Mrs. King nor sought another place of
any sort, but took home work from a larger establishment, and sat
sewing diligently in her little room, waiting, hoping, longing for
her friend. But month after month went by, and no word, no sign came
to comfort her. She would not doubt, yet she could not help fearing,
and in her nightly prayer no petition was more fervently made than
that which asked the Father of both saint and sinner to keep poor
Rachel safe, and bring her back in his good time.

Never had she been so lonely as now, for Christie had a social
heart, and, having known the joy of a cordial friendship even for a
little while, life seemed very barren to her when she lost it. No
new friend took Rachel's place, for none came to her, and a feeling
of loyalty kept her from seeking one. But she suffered for the want
of genial society, for all the tenderness of her nature seemed to
have been roused by that brief but most sincere affection. Her
hungry heart clamored for the happiness that was its right, and grew
very heavy as she watched friends or lovers walking in the summer
twilight when she took her evening stroll. Often her eyes followed
some humble pair, longing to bless and to be blessed by the divine