As Griselda hurried from her dressing-room to her carriage she
marvelled that Ambition had suddenly and mysteriously quitted her
presence. In his place stood the figure of a woman, all in black, and
with large, sad eyes and pale face.

"Who are you?" asked Griselda.

"I am the Spirit of Eternal Sorrow," said the woman.

And the strange, sad woman went with Griselda into the carriage and to
Griselda's home.

Old Charlotte, the nurse, met them at the door. She was very white and
she trembled as if with fear.

Then Griselda seemed to awaken from a dream.

"My child?" she asked, excitedly.

"He is gone," replied old Charlotte, the nurse.

Griselda flew to the chamber where she had left him. There stood the
little cradle where he had lain, but the cradle was empty.

"Who has taken him away?" cried Griselda, sinking upon her knees and
stretching her hands in agony to heaven.

"Death took him away but an hour ago," said old Charlotte, the nurse.

Then Griselda thought of his fevered face and his pitiful little moans
and sighs; of the guileful flatteries of Ambition that had deafened her
mother ears to the pleadings of her sick babe; of the brilliant theatre
and the applause of royalty and of the last moments of her lonely,
dying child.

And Griselda arose and tore the jewels from her breast and threw them
far from her and cried: "O God, it is my punishment! I am alone."

"Nay, not so, O mother," said a solemn voice; "I am with thee and will
abide with thee forever."

Griselda turned and looked upon the tall, gloomy figure that approached
her with these words.

It was the Spirit of Eternal Sorrow.

THE TWO WIVES

In a certain city there were two wives
named Gerda and Hulda. Although
their homes adjoined, these wives were in
very different social stations, for Gerda was
the wife of a very proud and very rich man,
while Hulda was the wife of a humble
artisan. Gerda's house was lofty and
spacious and was adorned with most costly and
most beautiful things, but Hulda's house
was a scantily furnished little cottage. The
difference in their social stations did not,
however, prevent Gerda and Hulda from
being very friendly in a proper fashion, and the
two frequently exchanged visits while their
husbands were away from home.

One day Hulda was at Gerda's house, and
Gerda said: "I must show you the painting
we have just received from Paris. It is
the most beautiful painting in the world, and