uld have ruled in every thought;--I
found nothing but peace, patience, and hope.

It was she who assured them that there was a limit to suffering, she who
encouraged them with renewed hopes, she who allured them by a thousand
possible variations on the theme of chance gladness, that might come
to-morrow or perhaps the day after.

And she did everything for all the world as if she never thought of
herself.

What a sacrifice it must be for a fair lively girl to sacrifice the most
brilliant years of her youth to the nursing of two sorrow-laden women,
to suffering with them, to enduring their heaviness of disposition.

Yet she was only a substitute girl in the house.

When I left Pressburg and the Fromm's house her parents wished to take
her home; but Fanny begged them to leave her there one year longer, she
was so fond of that poor suffering mother.

And then every year she begged for another year; so she remained in our
small home until she was a full-grown maiden.

Yes Pressburg is a gay, noisy town. The Fromm's house was open before
the world and the flower ought to open in spring--the young girl has a
right to live and enjoy life.

Fanny voluntarily shut herself off from life. There was no merriment in
our house.

My parents often assured her they would take her to some entertainments,
and would go with her.

"For my sake? You would go to amusements that I might enjoy myself?
Would that be an amusement for me? Let us stay at home.--There will be
time for that later."

And when she victimized herself, she did it so that no one could see she
was a victim.

There are many good patient-hearted girls, whose lips never complain,
but hollow eyes, pale faces, and clouded dispositions utter silent
complaints and give evidence of buried ambitions.

Fanny's face was always rosy and smiling: her eyes cheerful and fiery,
her disposition always gay, frank and contented; her every feature
proved that what she did she did from her heart and her heart was well
pleased. Her happy ever-gay presence enlightened the while gloomy circle
around her, as when some angel walks in the darkness, with a halo of
glory around his figure.

From year to year I found matters so at home when I returned for the
holidays: and from year to year one definite idea grew and took shape in
our minds mutually.

We never spoke of it: but we all knew.

She knew--I knew, her parents knew and so did mine; nor did we think
anything else could ha