"She came to the church this afternoon with Mr. Cooper. Isn't he here for her?"
"Cooper?—No: he went straight home after he left me; he's probably forgotten all about the child. What's to be done?"
"Can't we take her home? Is it far?"
"It is two or three streets from here, and directly out of our way; altogether too far for you to walk."
"Oh, no, it won't tire me; I'm quite strong now, and I would know she was safe home."
If Emily could but have seen Gerty's grateful face that moment, she would indeed have felt repaid for almost any amount of weariness.
CHAPTER IX.
MENTAL DARKNESS.
The blind girl did not forget little Gerty. Emily Graham never forgot the sufferings, the wants, the necessities of others. She could not see the world without, but there was a world of love and sympathy within her, which manifested itself in abundant charity, both of heart and deed. She loved God with her whole heart, and her neighbour as herself. Her own great misfortunes and trials were borne without repining; but the misfortunes and trials of others became her care, the alleviation of them her greatest delight. Emily was never weary of doing good. But never had she been so affected as now by any tale of sorrow. Children were born into the world amid poverty and privation. She could not account to herself for the interest she felt in the little stranger; but the impulse to know more of her was irresistible, and sending for True, she talked a long time with him about the child.