hen in her heart of hearts. These moments found
her capable of being both sympathizing and forgiving; these moments
followed out in her daily life might have made Hester almost great. Now
was the time, with her eyes full of tears and her lips trembling with
emotion, for Annie Forest to have caught a glimpse of the divine in
Hester; the hardness, the pride, the haughty spirit were all laid aside,
and hers was the true child-heart as she knelt by the sleeping baby.
Hester prayed earnestly at these moments, and, in in truth, Nan did
better for her than any sermon; better for her than even Mrs. Willis'
best influences. Nan was as the voice of God to her sister.

Hester, in her very busy life, had no time to notice, however, a very
slight and almost imperceptible change in bright little Nan. In the
mornings she was in too great a hurry to pay much heed to the little
one's chatter; in the afternoons she had scarcely an instant to devote to
her, and when she saw her playing happily with the other children she was
quite content, and always supposed that when a spare half-hour did come
in her busy life, Nan would rush to her with the old ecstasy, and give
her the old devotion.

One day, toward the end of a very fine May, the girls were all to go for
a picnic to some woods about four miles away. They had looked forward for
several days to this relaxation, and were in the highest state of delight
and the wildest spirits. After an early dinner they were to drive in
several large wagonettes to the place of rendezvous, where they were to
be regaled with gypsy-tea, and were to have a few hours in the lovely
woods of Burn Castle, one of the show places of the neighborhood. Mrs.
Willis had invited the Misses Bruce to accompany them, and they were all
to leave the house punctually at two o'clock. The weather was wonderfully
fine and warm, and it was decided that all the children, even Nan, should
go.

Perhaps none of the girls looked forward to this day's pleasure with
greater joy than did Hester; she determined to make it a real holiday,
and a real time of relaxation. She would forget her English theme; she
would cease to worry herself about Marie Antoinette; she would cease to
repeat her part in the coming play; and she would devote herself
exclusively and determinately to Nan's pleasure. She pictured the little
one's raptures; she heard her gay shouts of joy, her ceaseless little
rippling chatter, her baby glee, and, above all thing