d; nor did I, in my own
forlorn and isolated state, know what consolations to offer, nor what
hopes to set before her. I could but tell her that I too was an orphan,
friendless,--nay, far more so than herself; that for me the world had
neither home nor country; and yet that each day, glimpses of bright
hopes gleamed upon me, kind words and acts met me, and that as I lived
I learned to feel that there was a brotherhood in humanity, and that
amidst all the adverse incidents of fortune, warm hearts and generous
natures were scattered about to sustain the drooping courage of those
deserted as we were.

"And be assured, Margot," said I, "the time will come yet when you and
I will recall these dark hours with a sense of not unpleasant sorrow,
to think how patiently we bore our ills, how submissively and how
trustfully. Then shall we teach others, young as we are now, that even
the humblest has a duty to do in this life, and that he who would do it
well must bring to his task a stout heart and a steady will, and with
these there are no failures."

I do not think that Margot derived much hope from all my efforts at
consolation, but she certainly felt a strong interest in the similarity
of our fortunes. Again and again did she question me if I had seen and
could remember my mother, and asked me a thousand questions about the
dear friend whom I had ever called by that name. We talked of no other
theme than this, and our isolation served to link us together, as that
of two beings deserted by all, and only cared for by each other. There
was a character of depression about her that seemed to come of a life
of habitual gloom; the ordinary state of her mind was sad, and yet her
dark, lustrous eyes could flash with sudden brilliancy; her deep color
knew how to heighten; and I have seen her lip tremble with proud emotion
at moments of excitement.

When sufficiently recovered to bear the journey, Le Monnier
counselled me to convey her to her friends; and I yielded--shall I own
it?--reluctantly; for of all the world, Margot was now the only one
to whom I could speak, as youth loves to speak, of all my hopes and
my dreads, my ambitions and my aspirings. So long as my duty each day
revolved round her, I had no time to think of my own fate, save as a
thing to weave fancies about, to speculate on a brilliant future, and
imagine incidents and events at random. With what enthusiasm was I
often carried away by these self-wrought fancies!--wit