lower tone,
while the tears glistened on her pale cheeks, "there will be a blessed
rest for the weary, when this toilsome life is ended; let us find
comfort in that thought."

"Ay! Ay!" murmured Lady Isabel. "It is all that is left to me."

"You are young to have acquired so much experience of sorrow."

"We cannot estimate sorrow by years. We may live a whole lifetime of it
in a single hour. But we generally bring ill fate upon ourselves," she
continued, in a desperation of remorse; "as our conduct is, so will our
happiness or misery be."

"Not always," sighed Mrs. Hare. "Sorrow, I grant you, does come all too
frequently, from ill-doing; but the worst is, the consequences of this
ill-doing fall upon the innocent as well as upon the guilty. A husband's
errors will involve his innocent wife; parent's sins fall upon their
children; children will break the hearts of their parents. I can truly
say, speaking in all humble submission, that I am unconscious of having
deserved the great sorrow which came upon me; that no act of mine
invited it on; but though it has nearly killed me, I entertain no doubt
that it is lined with mercy, if I could only bring my weak rebellious
heart to look for it. You, I feel sure, have been equally undeserving."

_She?_ Mrs. Hare marked not the flush of shame, the drooping of the
eyelids.

"You have lost your little ones," Mrs. Hare resumed. "That is
grief--great grief; I would not underrate it; but, believe me, it is as
_nothing_ compared to the awful fate, should it ever fall upon you, of
finding your children grow up and become that which makes you wish they
had died in their infancy. There are times when I am tempted to regret
that _all_ my treasures are not in that other world; that they had not
gone before me. Yes; sorrow is the lot of all."

"Surely, not of all," dissented Lady Isabel. "There are some bright lots
on earth."

"There is not a lot but must bear its appointed share," returned Mrs.
Hare. "Bright as it may appear, ay, and as it may continue to be for
years, depend upon it, some darkness must overshadow it, earlier or
later."

"Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle--what sorrow can there be in store for them?"
asked Lady Isabel, her voice ringing with a strange sound, which Mrs.
Hare noted, though she understood it not.

"Mrs. Carlyle's lot is bright," she said, a sweet smile illumining her
features. "She loves her husband with an impassioned love; and he is
worthy of it. A happy fate,