the latter, you may well believe. Obscure and
poverty-stricken, the world passed on, and forgot even her existence,
after a way it has. She did not "keep up with the times," and she was
left by the receding tide, a lonely waif upon unknown shores. What lay
before her, God alone knew. Clemence felt grieved, too, to find that she
was not liked by the village people. Old Mrs. Wynn took care to inform
her of that, with a due amount of exaggeration. Her crime consisted in
minding her own business, and letting others do the same--and they
called her gentle reticence, "airs," said she felt above common folks,
and prophesied that any amount of evil would befall her. She did not
know that it is a trait of human nature to condemn that, which, through
ignorance, people cannot appreciate the value. Therefore she mourned in
secret, and blamed herself for being unsocial, and tried hard to be
patient and forgiving.

At this juncture, when she most needed a counsellor, she made an
acquaintance, and formed a lasting friendship. She had often admired,
upon the outskirts of the village, a pretty cottage, embowered in trees,
and curiosity had led her to question others about its occupant. She
could only learn that a lady by the name of Hardyng lived there, quite
alone. That was all she could find out in regard to it.

One morning, however, very much to her surprise, as she had never met
the lady, she found on her desk an informal invitation to visit her at
the cottage. Tired of her own thoughts, and wishing for something to
take up her attention, she at once resolved to accept it--and, in
pursuance of this determination, after school was dismissed, responded
to the message in person. The door was opened immediately on her low
rap.

"How kind of you to come," said one of the sweetest voices she had ever
heard. "I have hoped and feared alternately, as to the result of my
unceremonious request. Pray make yourself perfectly at home. I have
wanted to get acquainted with you ever since I first saw you, but I go
out so little, I was almost in despair, until I hit upon this method. I
believe I have not yet introduced myself. I am Ulrica Hardyng, a lonely
and sorrowing woman, with no one in the whole wide world to love or care
for me, and I want to be your friend."

She knelt down before the young girl, whom she had already seated, and
gazed with dark, unfathomable eyes into the sweet face before her.

"Loyal and true," she said, stroking the