So thought the world, who in their most scrutinizing glance could
detect no indication of care or gloom, in this, the object of their
observations, who was one of those bright, intelligent beings, ever
ready for conversation, and whose sallies of wit, never failed to
excite the attention of those around her. "Little did they know of my
aching heart," said Mary, that evening, to one in whom she had
confided much of her former history; for years had passed since she
had left the grave of her mother, and her native home, on "New
England's rocky shore," to wander forth with her father to the western
wilds. "Little did they know of the bitterness of soul I felt while
making merriment for them."

"How can you so control your feelings, while endeavoring to conceal
them, with such an excess of gayety?" eagerly inquired Ella.

"Ah! that is the work of time and necessity. Time has schooled my
heart to hide behind the covering I might think best to wear. Were my
history known, my name would be the theme of every tongue, the
derision of the stoical, the pity of the simple, and exposed to the
ridicule of a heartless and unfeeling world. The head must dictate and
govern my actions, all else submitting. Yet nothing can equal the
wretchedness of trying to conceal with smiles the bitter struggles of
a wounded spirit, whose every hope hath perished. Eye may not pierce
through the laughing cover, or ear catch the breathing of a sigh. Even
sympathy seems like those cold blasts of a November night, seeking the
hidden recess only to chill its peace forever."

"But do you not," said Ella, "enjoy something of that mirth which you
inspire in others?"

"Sometimes the excitement is sufficient to make me forget, for a
moment, the past, but then it is followed by such a depression that
the feeble clay well nigh sinks beneath it. Misery pays her tribute to
all my revelry."

"Then never will I again wish for Mary Warner's light and joyous air,"
said Ella, her cheek flushed with agitation, for being one of those
sober ones, whose words were ever the thoughts of her heart, she had
often wished for Mary's power to charm.

Weeks and months had rolled away, until they had numbered years. The
friends had parted. Ella's calm face still cheered the domestic
fireside, and Mary was gliding in crowded halls, the gayest of the
gay. No voice more musical than hers, or tones more sprightly; she
moved as a creature of enchantment, her image fastening upon