“But I have done nothing to earn it.  I have lived for myself alone.”

“We never can earn a gift, dear.  God gives in a royal way.  He says to you only ‘Believe I have given you life through my Son.’” Evadne had taken the tiny Bible which she always carried from her pocket and was turning its pages rapidly.  “Here it is.  Will you raise the blind, Mr. Hawthorne, that your wife may see for herself?  ’God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son,’—­the best he had!—­’that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,’ you see there is no death for those who trust in him.  And then ’He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.’  It does not mean that we may have it after years of toil.  The Israelites, stung by the serpents, had no time to reason or plan to live better, for they were dying, but they could turn their eyes to the brazen serpent which God had ordered to be lifted up in the midst of tho camp for an antidote to the poison.  So Christ has been ’lifted up’ upon the cross for us.  He died instead of you.  Why should you die forever when he has paid your ransom and set you free?”

“But I cannot touch him,—­I cannot be sure it is true.”

“The Israelites could not touch the brazen serpent.  They simply looked, and lived.  There is just one condition for us to-day and it is ‘Believe.’  Cannot you take your Heavenly Father at his word as you would your husband?  Cannot you treat God the same?”

Mrs. Hawthorne looked wonderingly at her nurse.  “Treat him the same as I do my husband!” she exclaimed.  “Why, with Reginald, I believe every word he says.”

“And I with God,” said Evadne reverently.

“What charm have you wrought?” asked John Randolph in a whisper, as they stood together that evening beside a quiet sleeper.  “This is the first natural sleep she has had.  I believe it will prove her salvation.”

Evadne looked up at him, and over her face a light was breaking, “I have led her to Jesus, the Mighty to save.”

* * * * *

The Hawthornes were going to Europe.  The young wife’s convalescence had been tedious and it was a very frail little figure which clung to Evadne the evening before they started.  They had pleaded with her to go with them.  “Give up this toilsome work which is overtaxing your strength,” Reginald had said, as they sat together one evening in the twilight, “and make your home with us.  You have grown to be our sister in the truest sense of the word and we have learned to lean upon you, Elise and I. We can never hope to repay you,” he continued huskily, “but it would be such a pleasure to have you with us for good.”

Evadne looked at the pleading eyes with which Elise Hawthorne seconded her husband’s wish and her lips trembled.  “How rich God is making me in friends!” she said.  “I shall never forget that this thing has been in your hearts, but I must be about my Father’s business.”