Year: 1859

charwomen, at one house and another


through the recommendation of the Sister
Of Mercy and tho parish clergyman, whc


were themselves too poor to give her any
, other help. But she kept from them the
story of her love and betrothal and, by do
ing SO, kept peace from the aching heart


Of her William; for the priest and tn,
Sisters, had they known it, would al
once have sent her off to him, or have
fetched him to her.


She made up her mind to continue


cheerfully at charrfng, until she could re-


purchase some of her good clothes. She


would then visit William, make known


her condition to him, confess all the story


Of her saving, and the sad way in which it
vas lost, and steadily insit upon the we,'-


ding being put off until she had removed


her uneasiness, and regained her sense Of


independence by recovering at least some


part OF her former wealth. Her disposi-


tion was all compact and cheerlulness and


hope. Whenever she had found anything


broken, instead Of standing over it crying


she had looked to see If it could be men


ded, if it could, she set about mending it !;


If it could not, she tried to procure anoth-
er thing of its kind.


So she dwelt with her own broken pros


poets just as she had been used to deal


with her mistress broken china. She
kept her mind fixed upon their restoration.
This hope gave her great hope and zest
and eagerness in her servilo work. She
never let herself remember that the time
had come in which except for her misfor-
tune, she should have been a bride and n
mistress Of household; but set about
her dull actualites as if no such bright
possibility had ever belonged to her. She
looked forward to the glory of that moment
when she she should find her head at rest
on the dear shoulder of her William
Sho went to her work singing, she came
from it singing She said to herself: "To
THINK would destroy r e. l shall never
be able to recover. myself if ponder on
my loss and my present state"


Thus she kept up a fever of counter-ex-
citement by shutting out of her thoughts
all truth which might excite hcr-the truth
of her own loss, tho truth of Williams as
tonishment and pain. Whenever sho
found her mind inclining to the realization
of his sufferings, she would sigh and grieve,
but the moment the echo OF her SIGH struck
athwart her conscionsness she arrested her
self. :"This vii. not do" shc would say;
it will be all the better afterwards; our
happiness will more than make up for our
misery" She never waited in quetness
OF spirit, and camly analysed or probed,
these ill-disgusted, hasty deductions. If
she had done so, she would have espied
monstrous reisduum Of "proper pride"
underlying all the other elements Of her
reluctance to see William as she was. If
she had done so she would have seen what
wretchedness doubt aud despair she was
sowing in the true heart of her William.
What that quakerly impulse sprung up in
her, she scrubbed, or walked or hummed
more vigorously if tear for William star
ted into her eye, she used it as mercilessly
as her sighs, and brushed it huridly away.
She felt that ifshe looked at the present,
sheuld be weakened, and do nothing. It
was only by keeping the end before her
that she could find spat and moral snew
for work. And whilst she was at work,
her efforts raised dust around her which
hid everything but those efforts.


But where was the need of all this?-
what was the end Of her eager and inces
SAINT strivings2 Would William love her
the less for having suffered and lost her
all? Would he love her the less for hav-
ing but one gown, AMI that an old ragged |
ouo' for having shoes with holes in them!
for being penniess? She knew him bet
ter; she knew that he never suspected she
had a faithing of her own. She knew
that the thought was a delightful one to
his open, generous nature, as it made him
self feel the suppler of all her needs. But
the little maid was vain. She had tasted
the sweet pernicious, intoxicating draught
Of false independence. The draught gave
her stimulous for work. In few weeks
she had made enough t, redeem her best
dresses, her shoes, and other articles of
dress, and TO pay her standingl ebts.


William, in the meantime, not having,
like Anne, any insight into the causes of
her mysterious absence and sileucc, could
not, as sic did, find solace, excitement
and delight in looking forward. On the
contrary, tho future was his most bitter
thought His disappointments lay there.
All the glory of his life was behind him
gone by forever. And even that past
glory, since suspicion and the present ap-
pearance of things had begun to cloud it,
lost all its golden worth. 1t had been ne
true possession. 1t was miserable to think
that, even when he was most happy, no
was only SO by being ignorant of the truth,
by trusting in hearllcss and wel,acted de-
cet. Before him ho could see nothing
but unacceptable misery; in the present
his thoughts exercised themselves worry
ingly on the cause Of Anne's strange de-
parture, until, by slow processes, not with
out, as he conceived, two occular proofs,
be admitted tho awful and maddening
conclusion that she was dishonest and un-
faithful.


Tho fl at ocular proof was as follows:
One dark foggy night, going from the
station to bis home, after dull day, all
through which his body had been taken
up by business, but he himself by the fiery
vexation OF his thoughts, shape rushed.
ed by him which startled him, it was so
like Anne. He would almost have ven-