ught how they all loved her, how happy and sweet she
had always been about home, how lovely she was, and how dreadful it
would be if they were to lose her. For Mrs. Dering had told them some
things that she had not told Ernestine, among them these:

"You have many times noticed how much more careful and anxious I have
been of Ernestine's health than of yours. That was because I knew that
God had given me my girls well and strong, and poor little Ernestine
came, burdened with the fatal seeds of her mother's disease,
consumption. I have known always, for the doctor told me, that she would
become its victim sooner or later; and that if she lived to womanhood,
he would be surprised. I also saw in early childhood, that she had
inherited her mother's restless, eager, dissatisfied disposition, though
the difference in her home life has modified it greatly; and knowing the
weakness that would assail her if she lived, I have battled against it,
and prayed that she might ever be spared a trial, or that a greater
strength would be hers, than had been her mother's. As she has grown
older, I have been grieved and troubled, beyond expression, to watch the
growth of that spirit, and of a selfishness, that must have been her
father's, as not an atom of it belonged to her mother, and many times I
would have been discouraged utterly, if I had not had the faith that God
would do all things for the best, and that all He wanted was for me to
do all in my power, and trust the rest to Him."

As the days went by, Ernestine did not seem to grow any better, and
friends hearing she was ill, began making kindly visits of sympathy, and
were greatly surprised to find her so terribly altered by the brief
illness. At first she refused to see any one; but Mrs. Dering asked if
she could not, as they would think it strange, and she immediately
assented.

It was indeed sad to look at her face, changed so suddenly from its
laughing, exquisite beauty to such a pallid, hollow-eyed, heart-broken
look, and every one pitied, and wondered, and privately talked it over.
Miss Strong, who had industriously circulated the report of her visit,
with many additions and wonderfully sly, meaning looks, now felt called
upon to supply the public with a reason, so she told her dearest friend
that Ernestine Dering had had a foolish little love affair, and broken
her heart over it; and before twenty-four hours, the whole of Canfield
had heard from, or told their dearest fri