nsitiveness with which the
poet shrinks from censure? To have her fair imaginings thus degraded,
her glowing theories prostrated, the golden pinions of her fancy
dragged to the dust--were these things the compensation for thought,
and toil, and sacrifice? It was a dark wisdom to learn, one that would
cast a shade over all future effort--and disappointed and mortified,
Theresa threw down the paper, and wept those bitter tears which
failure teaches youth to shed.

An hour of painful reverie had passed, when the door of the apartment
was noiselessly opened, and with silent steps, the dark-robed figure
of a woman entered and approached Theresa.

"I have intruded on you most unceremoniously," said the stranger, in a
voice singularly soft and melodious, "and I have no apology to plead
but the interest I feel in youth and genius, and this privileged
garb;" and as Theresa glanced at her dress, she saw it was that of a
Sister of Charity. It was an attire she had grown familiar with,
during her abode at the convent, and the winning kindness usually
distinguishing its wearers, had invested it in her mind with pleasant
associations.

"You are welcome, nevertheless," replied Theresa, "for I know that in
admitting your sisterhood we often entertain angels unawares."

The new comer seated herself, and the young artist strove in vain to
recall her features; they were those of a stranger.

"You are personally unknown to me, Theresa," said the lady, after a
brief silence, "but your father was one of my earliest friends.
Nay--it matters not to ask my name; the one I then bore, is parted
with now, and I would not willingly speak it again; under a different
appellation I have been lowlier and happier."

"You knew my father, then," rejoined Theresa, eagerly, "in his younger
and more prosperous days. His loss I feel more keenly as my experience
increases; for I was too young at his death to appreciate in reality,
as I now do in memory, all his character's high, and generous, and
spiritual beauty."

"We met often in the gay world," replied the guest--and her words were
uttered less to Theresa than to herself--"and our acquaintance was
formed under circumstances which ripened into intimacy what might
otherwise have proved only one of those commonplace associations that
lightly link society together; but it is of yourself I would speak. I
have opportunities in the fulfillment of my duties of hearing and
seeing much that passes in the bu