; to know that my sister thinks of me as
dead, and is glad that I am so--"

"Stop, Aunt Martha, stop!" cried Amy, with the same firm tone in which,
upon a previous visit, in this room, she had dismissed the insolent
shopman, "how can you say such things?" and she stood radiant before
her aunt, while Lawrence Newt looked on.

"Amy, dear, you can not understand. Sons and daughters of evil, when we
see that we have sinned, we must be brave enough to assist in our own
punishment. God's mercy enables me tranquilly to suffer the penalty which
his justice awards me. My path is very plain. Please God, I shall walk
in it."

She said it very slowly, and solemnly, and sadly. Whatever her offense
was, she had invested her situation with the dignity of a religious duty.
It was clear that her idea of obedience to God was to do precisely what
she was doing. And this was so deeply impressed upon Amy Waring's mind
that she was perplexed how to act. She knew that if her aunt suspected
in her any intention of revealing the secret of her abode, she would
disappear at once, and elude all search. And to betray it while it was
unreservedly confided to her was impossible for Amy, even if she had not
solemnly promised not to do so.

Observing that Amy meant to say nothing, Lawrence Newt turned to Aunt
Martha.

"I will not quarrel with what you say, but I want you to grant me a
request."

Aunt Martha bowed, as if waiting to see if she could grant it.

"If it is not unreasonable, will you grant it?"

"I will," said she.

"Well, now please, I want you to go next Sunday and hear a man preach
whom I am very fond of hearing, and who has been of the greatest service
to me."

"Who is it?"

"First, do you ever go to church?"

"Always."

"Where?"

Aunt Martha did not directly reply. She was lost in reverie.

"It is a youth like an angel," said she at length, with an air of
curious excitement, as if talking to herself. "His voice is music, but
it strikes my soul through and through, and I am frightened and in agony,
as if I had been pierced with the flaming sword that waves over the
gate of Paradise. The light of his words makes my sin blacker and more
loathsome. Oh! what crowds there are! How he walks upon a sea of sinners,
with their uplifted faces, like waves white with terror! How fierce his
denunciation! How sweet the words of promise he speaks! 'The sacrifices
of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, tho