The Girl from Montana

At last he hit upon a bright idea. He asked some children along the street

whether they knew of any young woman named Bessie or Elizabeth living

there, but they all with one accord shook their heads, though one

volunteered the information that "Lizzie Smith lives there." It was most

distracting and unsatisfying. There was nothing for it but for him to go

home and wait in patience for her return. She would come back sometime

probably. She had not said so, but she had not said she would not. He had

found her once; he might find her again. And he could pray. She had found

comfort in that; so would he. He would learn what her secret was. He would

get acquainted with her "best Friend." Diligently did he study that little

book, and then he went and hunted up the man of God who had written it,

and who had been the one to lead Elizabeth into the path of light by his

earnest preaching every Sabbath, though this fact he did not know.

The days passed, and the Saturday came. Elizabeth, heavy-hearted, stood on

the deck of the Deutschland, and watched her native land disappear from

view. So again George Benedict had lost her from sight.

It struck Elizabeth, as she stood straining her eyes to see the last of

the shore through tears that would burn to the surface and fall down her

white cheeks, that again she was running away from a man, only this time

not of her own free will. She was being taken away. But perhaps it was

better.

And it never once entered her mind that, if she had told her grandmother

who the friend in Montana was, and where he lived in Philadelphia, it

would have made all the difference in the world.

From the first of the voyage Grandmother Bailey grew steadily worse, and

when they landed on the other side they went from one place to another

seeking health. Carlsbad waters did not agree with her, and they went to

the south of France to try the climate. At each move the little old lady

grew weaker and more querulous. She finally made no further resistance,

and gave up to the rôle of invalid. Then Elizabeth must be in constant

attendance. Madam Bailey demanded reading, and no voice was so soothing as

Elizabeth's.

Gradually Elizabeth substituted books of her own choice as her grandmother

seemed not to mind, and now and then she would read a page of some book

that told of the best Friend. At first because it was written by the dear

pastor at home it commanded her attention, and finally because some

dormant chord in her heart had been touched, she allowed Elizabeth to

speak of these things. But it was not until they had been away from home

for three months, and she had been growing daily weaker and weaker, that

she allowed Elizabeth to read in the Bible.