nd figures, before
summoning up courage to commit her thoughts to paper.

It was anything but a simple exercise book. The records dated much
farther back, to a period three or four years before her acquaintance
with Edwin, and contained all the secrets of her young life, everything
which since her girlish heart had awakened, had aroused grave doubts
and questions.

There was scarcely a trace of external events; only from the reaction
on her mind could it be inferred that even this most quiet, uniform
life had experienced its trials and storms. But instead of merely
describing the tone and contents of these pages, let us at this point,
while Edwin for hours absorbs himself in reading, insert a short
extract from oft-interrupted soliloquies of this earnest young soul,
which will at least afford an idea of its principle characteristics.

CHAPTER VII.

FROM LEAH'S DIARY.

"Since I burned the old volumes in which I so conscientiously gave an
account of all my secret struggles before and after confirmation, I
have had a horror of all writing. But is not this feeling similar to
that experienced by a person just recovering from small-pox who sees
himself in the glass for the first time, and desires to break the
innocent mirror that shows him his real face. I wish I had not burned
those diaries. True, they told a tale of sickness; but have we any
reason to be ashamed, if we are attacked by fever and rave in delirious
fancies?

"As to what befell me at that time--either I am greatly mistaken, or we
are developed by sickness; few escape this development by pain, I
think, and those few only because their natures are too weak and their
blood too stagnant.

"But when I reflect upon it, it was not shame because I must endure
these childish tortures before reaching clear views of life, which made
me destroy the old journals; it was a gnawing remorse that I could see
so plainly and yet lack the courage to openly assert my convictions. I
could not even plead the excuse that my unbelieving mind was not wholly
clear, and when my lips repeated the confession of faith, I only made a
vague protest. I knew perfectly well that I was uttering a monstrous
falsehood, my own quiet creed in black and white gave the lie to the
public confession in church, and in addition to the first act of
cowardice, I committed the second one of destroying these mute
witnesses, as if thereby