is Madeleine's!"

"A character," returned Gaston, tenderly, "which exerts a holy influence
upon all with whom she is thrown in contact, and works more good,
teaches more truth by the example of a patient, noble, holy life than
could be taught by a thousand sermons from the most eloquent lips." He
paused, and then continued in a tone of deep feeling, "_I_ may well say
so! I shudder to think what a weak, useless, self-centred being I should
have been but for her agency."

"You seem far happier," replied Bertha, smiling archly, "than you did in
Brittany! And this change was wrought by"--

"Mademoiselle Madeleine! It was she who made me feel that we are all too
ready with our peevish outcries against the beautiful world in which we
have been placed; too ready to complain that all is sadness and sorrow
and disappointment, when the gloom exists _within_ ourselves, not
_without_ us; it is from ourselves the misty darkness springs; it is we
ourselves who have lost, or who have never possessed, the secret of
being happy, and we exclaim that there is no happiness on the face of
the globe! It is we ourselves who are '_flat_, _stale_, and
_unprofitable_,' not our neighbors; though we are sure to charge them
with the dulness and insipidity for which we, alone, are responsible."

Bertha answered, "One secret of Madeleine's cheerfulness is her
unquenchable _hope_. Even in her saddest moments, the light of hope
never appeared to be extinguished. It shone about her almost like a
visible halo, and illumined all her present and her future. Have you not
remarked the strength of this characteristic?"

"That I have!" he replied with warmth. "And it forced upon my conviction
the truth of the poet's words that '_hope_ and _wisdom_ are akin'; that
it is always wise to hope, and the most wise, because those who have
most faith, ever hope most. She taught me to hope when I was plunged in
the depths of despair!"

Bertha blushed suddenly, as though those fervently-uttered words had
awakened some suggestion which could not be framed into language.

"This seat is shady and retired, and commands a fine view of the
garden," remarked Gaston, pausing. There was an invitation in his
accents.

Bertha, half unconsciously seated herself, and Gaston did the same. Then
came another pause, a longer one than before; it was broken by Bertha,
who exclaimed,--

"You defended Madeleine nobly and courageously! and how I thanked you!"

"I only did her just