s, in marriage or otherwise,
for low objects. Some strive to forget, and to become as like as
possible to what they were before; and of this order are many of the
women whom we meet, whose minds are in a state of perpetual and
incurable infancy. It is difficult to see the purpose of their
suffering, from any effects it appears to have produced: but then there
is the hope that their griefs were not of the deepest."

"And what of those whose griefs are of the deepest?"

"They rise the highest above them. Some of these must be content with
having learned more or less, of what life is, and of what it is for, and
with reconciling themselves to its objects and conditions."

"In short, with being philosophical," said Margaret, with an inquiring
and affectionate glance at her friend.

"With being philosophical," Maria smilingly agreed. "Others, of a
happier nature, to whom philosophy and religion come as one, and are
welcomed by energies not wholly destroyed, and affections not altogether
crushed, are strong in the new strength which they have found, with
hearts as wide as the universe, and spirits the gayest of the gay."

"You never told me anything of all this before," said Margaret; "yet it
is plain that you must have thought much about it--that it must have
been long in your mind."

"It has; and I tell it to you, that you may share what I have learned,
instead of going without the knowledge, or, alas! gathering it up for
yourself."

"Oh, then, it is so--it is from your own--"

"It is from my own experience that I speak," said Maria, without looking
up. "And now, there is some one in the world who knows it beside
myself."

"I hope you do not--I hope you never will repent having told me," said
Margaret, rising and taking her seat on the sofa, beside her friend.

"I do not, and I shall not repent," said Maria. "You are faithful: and
it will be a relief to me to have sympathy--to be able to speak
sometimes, instead of having to deny and repress my whole heart and
soul. But I can tell you no more--not one word."

"Do not. Only show me how I can comfort--how I can gratify you."

"I need no special comfort now," said Maria, smiling. "I _have_
sometimes grievously wanted a friend to love and speak with--and if I
could, to serve. Now I have a friend." And the look with which she
gazed at her companion brought the tears into Margaret's eyes.

"Come, let us speak of something else," said Maria, cheerfully. "