wished she would go away. The burden of loneliness grew every moment
more intolerable. Suddenly she turned towards her cousin and cried in
desperation,--

"Can _you_ tell me where I shall find Jesus Christ?"

Isabelle started. "My goodness, Evadne, what a strange question! You
took my breath away."

"Is it a strange question?" she asked wistfully. "Everyone seems to
think so, and yet--my father said I was to make it the business of my
life to find him."

"Your father!" cried Isabelle. "Why Uncle Lenox was an----"

Instantly a pair of small hands were held like a vice against her lips.
Isabelle threw them off angrily.

"You are polite, I must say! Is this a specimen of West Indian manners?"

"You were going to say something I could not hear," said Evadne quietly,
"there was nothing else to do."

Isabelle left the room, and, returning, threw a book carelessly upon the
table. "You had better study that," she said. "It will answer your
questions better than I can."

"I told you she was a heathen!" she exclaimed, as she rejoined her
mother in the sitting-room; "but I did not know that I should have to
turn missionary the first night and give her a Bible!"