“That she is.”

“And she is very fond of you, for when I told her of your sufferings the bright tears rolled down her cheeks, and she praised you as warmly, and was as much troubled as if you had been her own daughter.”

“You said nothing about our working in the factory?” asked Selene anxiously.

“Certainly not, you had desired me not to mention it.  I was to say everything that was kind to you from the old lady.”

For several minutes the two girls were silent, then Selene asked: 

“Did the gate-keeper’s son who accompanied you also hear of the disaster that had befallen me?

“Yes, on the way to your rooms he was full of fun and jokes, but when I told him that you had gone out with your damaged foot and now could not get home again, and were being treated by the leech, he was very angry and used blasphemous language.”

“Can you remember what he said?”

“Not perfectly, but one thing I still recollect.  He accused his gods of having created a beautiful work only to spoil it, nay he abused them” Mary looked down as she spoke, as if she were repeating something ill to tell, but Selene colored slightly with pleasure, and exclaimed eagerly, as if to outdo the sculptor in abuse: 

“He is quite right, the powers above act in such a way—­”

“That is not right,” said the deformed girl reprovingly.

“What?” asked the patient.  “Here you live quietly to yourselves in perfect peace and love.  Many a word that I heard dame Hannah say has stuck in my mind, and I can see for myself that you act as kindly as you speak.  The gods no doubt are good to you!”

“God is for each and all.”

“What!” exclaimed Selene with flashing eyes.  “For those whose every pleasure they destroy?  For the home of eight children whom they rob of their mother?  For the poor whom they daily threaten to deprive of their bread-winner?”

“For them too, there is a merciful God,” interrupted dame Hannah who had just come into the room.  “I will lead you to the loving Father in Heaven who cares for us all as if we were His children; but not now—­you must rest and neither talk nor hear of anything that can excite your fevered blood.  Now I will rearrange the pillow under your head.  Mary will wet a fresh compress and then you must try to sleep.”

“I cannot,” replied Selene, while Hannah shook her pillows and arranged them carefully.  “Tell me about your God who loves us.”

“By-and-bye, dear child.  Seek Him and you will find Him, for of all His children He loves them best who suffer.”

“Those who suffer?” asked Selene, in surprise.  “What has a God in his Olympian joys to do with those who suffer?”

“Be quiet, child,” interrupted Hannah, patting the sick girl with a soothing hand, “you soon will learn how God takes care of you and that Another loves you.”

“Another,” muttered Selene, and her cheeks turned crimson.