"It will be an orphan's home, at least," said Christine, softly and sadly.
Tears filled the old man's eyes, and putting his arm around her he drew her to him, saying, as he stroked her drooping head: "Poor child! poor child! I did not know. But you shall never want a protector while the old doctor is above ground. As far as possible I will be a father to you;" and Christine knew she had found a friend as true and strong as steel, and she buried her face on his shoulder and cried as trustingly as his own child might have done.
"Oh, Christine!" cried Mrs. Leonard, "I am so sorry for you!"
At the voice of her old friend she at once rallied, and, trying to smile through her tears, said, "God has been so much better to me than I deserved that I have only gratitude when I think of myself; but my poor father—" and again she covered her face and wept.
"Christine, come here," said Mrs. Leonard, softly, and she put her arms around the weeping girl. "You spoke of God's being good to you. Have you in truth found and learned to trust Him?"
"Yes," she replied, eagerly, joy and peace coming out in her face like the sun shining through clouds and rain. Then with bowed head she whispered low: "The one I wronged on earth led me to the One I wronged in heaven, and both have forgiven me. Oh, I am so glad, so happy!"
"Then you have seen Mr. Fleet."
"Yes, he saved my life again and again, but in teaching me how to find my Saviour, he has done far more for me."
"And you will not wrong him any more, will you, Christine? He has loved you so long and faithfully."
In reply she lifted an eager face to her friend and said, "Do you think he can love me still after my treatment of him?"