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 on my brow, but repent, repent ere it is too late!

Ella turned to her sister. If you care to converse with this lunatic, she said, you may do so. I am going back to my room. Without a word more to Mrs. Baker, she left the library.

I fear I have been too hasty, the pious woman whimpered. I fear I have come too early, Miss Poore, but I only meant to do my duty as my Lord has asked me to do it, after I have prayed to Him, begging Him for guidance. You, perhaps. . . timidly, she proffered another tract. . . You, perhaps, will see the light. You have not walked so far along the path of error. You have not become a papist.

I am afraid, Mrs. Baker, Lou said, without much assurance, it must be admitted that I do not consider myself a sinner. There are many ways of being religious. Our opinions seem to differ on that subject and so no good can come of our talking further along this line. My sister. ..

O! your sister! I shall pray for her! A fallen woman! Perhaps a Magdalene! A papist! I shall ask Brother Eldridge to pray for the Countess.

Mrs. Baker! Be careful! Do you know what you are saying? My sister is not a fallen woman.

The visitor rose, gathered her reticule and tracts firmly in her long bony fingers, and prepared to depart.

I have been crowned with thorns, she whined, crowned with thorns, like our dear Lord!