They were miserable, puny, fretful little imps, that were poisoned off by the bad air in which we lived, and our bad food—­that is, when we had any—­after they had made all the trouble they could.  I had the care of most of them, and my life became a burden before I was seven years old.  I used to get so tired and faint that I was half glad when they died.  At last, when mother became so used up that she really couldn’t work any more, father did for us the one good act that I know anything about—­he went off on a big spree that finished him.  Mother and I have clung together ever since.  We’ve often been hungry, but we’ve never been separated a night.  What a long night is coming now, in which the doctor says we shall be parted!” and the poor girl crouched on the floor where her mother could not see her should she open her eyes, and sobbed convulsively.

Mildred did not try to comfort her with words, but only with caresses.  Christ proved centuries ago that the sympathetic touch is healing.

“Oh, Millie, I seem to feel the gentle stroke of your hand on my heart as well as on my brow, and it makes the pain easier to bear.  It makes me feel as if the coarse, brutal life through which I’ve come did not separate me from one so good and different as you are; for though you may be poor, you are as much of a lady as any I’ve ever waited on at the store.  And then to look at your father and to think of mine.  I learned to hate men even when a child, for nearly all I ever knew either abused me or tempted me; but, Millie, you need not fear to touch me.  I never sold myself, though I’ve been faint with hunger.  I’m ignorant, and my heart’s been full of bitterness, but I’m an honest girl.”

“Poor, poor Clara!” said Mildred brokenly, “my heart aches for you as I think of all you’ve suffered.”

The girl sprang up, seized the candle, and held it to Mildred’s face.  “My God,” she whispered, “you are crying over my troubles.”  Then she looked steadfastly into the tearful blue eyes and beautiful face of her new friend for a moment, and said, “Millie, I’ll believe any faith you’ll teach me, for I believe in you.”

CHAPTER XIX

Belle jars the “System”

Some orthodox divines would have given Clara a version of the story of life quite different from that which she received from Mildred.  Many divines, not orthodox, would have made the divergence much wider.  The poor girl, so bruised in spirit and broken in heart, was not ready for a system of theology or for the doctrine of evolution; and if any one had begun to teach the inherent nobleness and self-correcting power of humanity, she would have shown him the door, feeble as she was.  But when Mildred assured her that if Christ were in the city, as He had been in Capernaum, He would climb the steep, dark stairs to her attic room and say to her, “Daughter, be of good comfort”—­when she was told that Holy Writ declared that He was the “same yesterday, to-day, and forever”—­her heart became tender and contrite, and therefore ready for a Presence that is still “seeking that which was lost.”