ope, after a pretty long
pause. "Is it not to put us off from the too vehement desire of being
what we commonly call happy? By the time higher things become more
interesting to us than this, we begin to find that it is given to us to
put our own happiness under our feet, in reaching forward to something
better. We become, by natural consequence, practised in this (forgetful
of the things that are behind); and if the practice be painful, what
then? We shall not quarrel with it, surely, unless we are willing to
exchange what we have gained for money, and praise, and animal spirits,
shutting in an abject mind."

"Oh, no, no!" said Hester; "but yet there are troubles--" She stopped
short on observing Margaret's quivering lip.

"There are troubles, I own, which it is difficult to classify and
interpret," said her husband. "We can only struggle through them,
taking the closest heed to our innocence. But these affairs of ours--
these mistakes of my neighbours--are not of that sort. They are
intelligible enough, and need not therefore trouble us much."

Hope was right in his suspicion of the accuracy of Margaret's memory.
His tones, his words, had sunk deep into her heart--her innocent heart--
in which everything that entered it became safe and pure as itself. "Oh
God! my Margaret!" sounded there like music.

"What a heart he has!" she thought. "I was very selfish to fancy him
reserved; and I am glad to know that my brother loves me so. If it is
such a blessing to be his sister, how happy must Hester be--in spite of
everything! God has preserved my life, and He has given these two to
each other! And, oh, how He has shown me that they love me! I will
rouse myself, and try to suffer less."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

MOODS OF THE MIND.

Hester's sleeping as well as waking thoughts were this night full of
solicitude as to her feelings and conduct towards her sister. A
thousand times before the morning she had said to herself, in dreams and
in meditation, that she had failed in this relation--the oldest, and,
till of late, the dearest. She shuddered to think how nearly she had
lost Margaret; and to imagine what her state of mind would have been, if
her sister had now been beyond the reach of the voice, the eye, the
hand, which she was resolved should henceforth dispense to her nothing
but the love and the benefits she deserved. She reflected that to few
was granted such a warning of the death of beloved ones