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There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites.
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