d not move in his own narrow circle. As
one might suppose, he had not many friends, and his life was not a happy
one.

"How much misery there is in the world," thought Clemence, as she walked
towards the school-house. It seems as if almost every one had some
secret sorrow of their own--and what a singular and deplorable effect
grief has upon some people, rendering them selfish, and closing the
heart to pity, instead of remembering their own sorrows, only to
commiserate and alleviate those of others.

CHAPTER VIII.

That evening, as Clemence sat alone with her friend, she asked her the
question which had perplexed herself, and which she had never been able
to solve: "Ulrica, why are so many people unhappy?"

"Child, I cannot tell you," replied the elder woman, mournfully; "for
myself, I know that I have for many years considered life a burden to
me, instead of the glorious boon our Creator designed it. You have never
asked me anything of my former life, but, to-night, the feeling is
strong upon me to speak of the past, for I feel strangely in need of
sympathy."

She bowed her head upon her hands, and great tears coursed down her pale
cheeks, while Clemence sat in wondering silence; then, recovering
herself, she began in a low tone:

"I was the only child of wealthy and indulgent parents. From my infancy
every want was eagerly anticipated by loving friends, who made my will
and pleasure paramount to everything, and who were ever subjected to my
imperious rule. At eighteen, I was a spoiled child, without the least
knowledge of the world, or of the duties and responsibilities of life.
Then my parents died, and left me to the guardianship of a vain and
worldly-minded aunt, who became fond of me, in her way, because of my
beauty and great wealth.

"I mingled a good deal in society, and of course, being an heiress had
many opportunities for marriage. However I was very fond of admiration,
and soon succeeded in establishing a reputation for being a thorough
coquette. At heart, I felt a supreme contempt for those who sought me on
account of those 'golden attractions,' without caring to look beyond.
Had I been differently brought up, I believe I would not have been what
I am to day, a lonely and heart-broken woman, for, though passionate and
somewhat overbearing, I had many good impulses, which, if rightly
trained, might have made me wiser and better. But I was left solely to
the guidance of my own will, and ever