“Surely Enna must feel for her child!” Elsie said, thinking of her own darlings and how her very heart would be torn with anguish at the sight of one of them in so distressing a condition.

“Yes, of course, she cried bitterly over her when first the truth dawned upon her that Molly was really so dreadfully injured; but of course that couldn’t last and she soon took to bewailing her own hard fate in having such a burden on her hands, a daughter who must always live single and could never be anything but a helpless invalid.”

Elsie understood how it was; for had she not known Enna from a child?  Her heart ached for Molly, and as she told her own little ones of their poor cousin’s hopeless, helpless state, she mingled her tears with theirs.

“Mamma, won’t you ’vite her to come here?” pleaded Harold.

“Yes, dear mamma, do,” urged the others, “and let us all try to amuse and comfort her.”

“If I do, my dears, you may be called upon at times to give up your pleasures for her.  Do you think you will be willing to do so?”

At that the young faces grew very grave, and for a moment no one spoke.  Quick, impulsive Violet was the first to answer.

“Yes, mamma, I’m willing; I do feel so sorry for her I’d do anything to help her bear her pain.”

“Mamma,” said Elsie, softly, “I’ll ask Jesus to help me, and I’m sure he will.”

“So am I, daughter; and I think Vi means to ask his help too?”

“Oh, yes, mamma, I do!”

“And I,” “and I,” “and I,” responded the others.

So the invitation was sent, for Molly and her mother and brother to come and pay as long a visit as they would.

A letter came in a few days, accepting it and giving the sorrowful news that all the surgeons agreed in the opinion that the poor girl’s spine had been so injured that she would never again have any use of her lower limbs.

It was Mrs Conly who brought the letter to her niece, it having come in one addressed to herself.  She expressed strong sympathy for Molly, but was much taken up with the contents of another letter received by the same mail.

“I’ve just had a most generous offer from Mr. Conly’s sister, Mrs. Delaford,” she said to her niece.  “She has no children of her own, is a widow and very wealthy, and she’s very fond of my Isadore, who is her godchild and namesake.  She offers now to clothe and educate her, with the view of making the child her heir; and also to pay for Virgy’s tuition, if I will send them both to the convent where she was herself educated.”

“Aunt Louise, you will not think of it surely?” cried Elsie, looking much disturbed.

“And why not, pray?” asked Mrs. Conly, drawing herself up, and speaking in a tone of mingled hauteur, pique and annoyance.

“You would not wish them to become Romanists?”

“No, of course not; but that need not follow.”

“It is very apt to follow.”