nything of what lies deepest in my heart. This must be possible; it
has been done. Many nuns in their convents have carried it through: and
missionaries in heathen countries, and all the wisest who have been
before their age; and some say--Maria would say--almost every person who
has loved as I have: but I do not believe this: I do not believe that
many--that any can have felt as I do now. It is not natural and right
that any should live as I mean to do. We are made for confidence, not
for such solitude and concealment. But it may be done when
circumstances press as they do upon me; and, if God gives me strength, I
will do it. I will live for Him and his; and my heart, let it suffer as
it may, shall never complain to human ear. It shall be as silent as the
grave."

The resolution held for some hours. Margaret was quiet and composed
through dinner, though her expectation, instead of dying out, grew more
intense with every hour. After dinner, Hope urged his wife to walk with
him. It had been a fine day, and she had not been out. There was still
another hour before dark. Would not Margaret go too? No; Margaret
could not leave home.

When Hester came down, equipped for her walk, she sat beside her sister
on the sofa for a minute or two, while waiting for Edward.

"Margaret," said she, "will you let me say one word to you?"

"Anything, Hester, if you will not be hard upon any one whom you cannot
fully understand."

"I would not for the world be hard, love. But there was once a time,
above a year ago, when you warned me, kindly warned me, though I did not
receive it kindly, against pride as a support. You said it could not
support me; and you said truly. May I say the same to you now?"

"Thank you. It is kind of you. I will consider; but I do not think
that I have any pride in me to-day. I feel humbled enough."

"It is not for you to feel humbled, love. Reverence yourself; for you
may. Nothing has happened to impair your self-respect. Admit freely to
your own mind, and to us, that you have been cruelly injured, and that
you suffer as you must and ought. Admit this freely, and then rely on
yourself and us."

Margaret shook her head. She did not say it, but she felt that she
could not rely on Edward, while he seemed to stand between her and
Philip. He came in at the moment, and she averted her eyes from him.
He felt her displeasure in his heart's core.

When they returned, sooner than she had