Help me, that I do not teach her to associate love wholly with that which is base and untrue.

Grant, O God, that her beautiful life may not be marred by a love that is unworthy." As the woman with the disfigured face rose from her knees, she heard the voice of Sibyl, who was coming up the old road toward the cedars--singing as she came.
When Sibyl entered the house, a moment later, Myra Willard, still agitated, was bathing her face.

The girl, seeing, checked the song upon her lips; and going to the woman who in everything but the ties of blood was mother to her, sought to discover the reason for her troubled manner, and tried to soothe her with loving words.
The woman held the girl close in her arms and looked into the lovely, winsome face that was so unmarred by vicious thoughts of the world's teaching.
"Dear child, do you not sometimes hate the sight of my ugliness ?" she said.

"It seems to me, you must." With her arms about her companion's neck, Sibyl pressed her pure, young lips to those disfiguring scars, in an impulsive kiss.

"Foolish Myra," she cried, "you know I love you too well to see anything but your own beautiful self behind the scars.