takes us through narrow city-streets, and we look in at the windows we
are passing, we wonder at the close life that is going on behind them,
and we say to ourselves, "How slow the life must be within those
confined walls!" At other times, when our own life is cramped or jarred
by circumstances, we look with envy on the happy family-circles we see
smiling within, and have a fancy that the roses have fallen to others,
and we only have the thorns. There are full years, and there are years
of famine, just as there come moments to all that seem like a life-time,
and lives that hurry themselves away in a passing of the pendulum. It is
of no use to shake the hour-glass; yet, when we are counting upon time,
the sands hurry down like snow-flakes.

It was true, as Violet had foreboded, that Harry missed Ernest. He went
heavily about his work, and the house seemed silent without him. Harry
confessed this sadly to Violet, when his brother had been gone about a
year. They had heard from Ernest in Florence, that he was getting on
well. He had found occupation in the workshop of a famous sculptor, and
had time besides to carry out some of his own designs.

"He writes me," said Harry, "that he will be able now to support
himself, and that he does not need my help. Do you know, Violet, that
takes the life out of me? I feel as if I had nothing to work for. I
always felt a pride in working for Ernest, because I thought he was
fitted for something better. Violet, it saddens me to think he can do
without me. I go to my daily work; I lift my hammer and let it fall; but
it is all mechanically; there is no vital force in the blow. It is hard
to live without him."

"This is what I was afraid of," said Violet. "I was afraid he would
think he could do without us. But he cannot do without you."

"Say that he cannot do without _us_" said Harry; "for he needs you, as I
need you, and the question is, with which the need is greater."

Violet turned red and pale, and said,--

"We cannot answer that question yet."

After Mrs. Schroder died, it was sad enough in the old rooms. In the
daytime, when Harry was away at his work, Violet would go up-stairs and
put all things in order, and make them look as nearly as possible as
they did when the mother was there. Harry came to pass his evenings with
Violet.

A few days after his mother's death, he said to Violet,--

"Is it not time for you to tell me that it is I who need you more than
Ernest? He w