had remained in the
dining-room with Mr. Carlyle, a lecture for him, upon some defalcation
or other most probably in store. Lady Isabel was alone. Lucy had gone
to keep a birthday in the neighborhood, and William was in the nursery.
Mrs. Hare found her in a sad attitude, her hands pressed upon her
temples. She had not yet made acquaintance with her beyond a minute's
formal introduction.

"I am sorry to hear you are not well, this evening," she gently said.

"Thank you. My head aches much"--which was no false plea.

"I fear you must feel your solitude irksome. It is dull for you to be
here all alone."

"I am so used to solitude."

Mrs. Hare sat down, and gazed with sympathy at the young, though
somewhat strange-looking woman before her. She detected the signs of
mental suffering on her face.

"You have seen sorrow," she uttered, bending forward, and speaking with
the utmost sweetness.

"Oh, great sorrow!" burst from Lady Isabel, for her wretched fate
was very palpable to her mind that evening, and the tone of sympathy
rendered it nearly irrepressible.

"My daughter tells me that you have lost your children, and you have
lost your fortune and position. Indeed I feel for you. I wish I could
comfort you!"

This did not decrease her anguish. She completely lost all self control,
and a gush of tears fell from her eyes.

"Don't pity me! Don't pity me dear Mrs. Hare! Indeed, it only makes
endurance harder. Some of us," she added, looking up, with a sickly
smile, "are born to sorrow."

"We are all born to it," cried Mrs. Hare. "I, in truth, have cause to
say so. Oh, you know not what my position has been--the terrible weight
of grief that I have to bear. For many years, I can truly say that I
have not known one completely happy moment."

"All do not have to bear this killing sorrow," said Lady Isabel.

"Rely upon it, sorrow of some nature does sooner or later come to all.
In the brightest apparent lot on earth, dark days must mix. Not that
there is a doubt but that it falls unequally. Some, as you observe,
seem born to it, for it clings to them all their days; others are more
favored--as we reckon favor. Perhaps this great amount of trouble is
no more than is necessary to take us to Heaven. You know the saying,
'Adversity hardens the heart, or it opens it to Paradise.' It may be
that our hearts continue so hard, that the long-continued life's trouble
is requisite to soften them. My dear," Mrs. Hare added, in a