"I have seen him, but I don't think I ever spoke to him. My visits to my brother were always short, so I did not get to know many of his friends. And so your father is now home with Christ; it is a blessed change even from such a pretty place as Westbrook."
"Yes, and he was glad to go; though he was sorry to leave me," said the boy, wistfully. "Mother died when I was a baby, so now I have nobody."
"Have you not got Christ?"
Owen looked up inquiringly; he did not quite know his friend's meaning.
"The blessed Saviour loves you, my boy; have you no love in your heart for Him? Those who belong to Him can never say they have nobody to love them. Are you not his child?"
The question was asked very tenderly, and Owen looked into the kind face that watched his so earnestly, as he said, slowly, "I don't think so."
"Then I am sure you are both poor and lonely."
"Yes, I am poor, because father had very little to leave me—only a few books and furniture. But I have come to Barmston to make my fortune."
"I hope you will find the truest fortune; it is already made for you, and all you have to do is to accept it."
"What is the truest fortune?"