rrow had made him wise beyond his years. Its weight crushed him down
like a bruised lily. The Good Shepherd listened to his pitiful
supplications, and he is now safe in the fold above. I don't want _your_
life to be one of gloom, my little adopted sister. I have tried to make
you feel happy, but I fear I am but dull company for a little girl."

"You are the best, the _very_ best," persisted the little devotee, with
worshipping eyes. "I would like to be always near you, and it is only
the thought that I am a burden that clouds my face with one shade of
care."

"How often have I told you, Ruth," returned Clemence, gravely, "not to
disturb your mind with such fancies? It displeases me to have you talk
upon these subjects, that a little girl ought not to think of at all. I
have never told you of your obligations, and I do not wish it to form a
topic of conversation between us. I want your love and obedience, and
that is all that a little girl like you can give. You have not added
greatly to my trials, and as yet I have experienced few inconveniences
from having another to provide for. God has raised up a kind friend for
us in Mrs. Hardyng, and we will not question His wisdom who has made us
what we are, but strive always to remember in whose hands our future is
placed."

A look of pain flitted over the child's open countenance, and a tear
trembled upon the silken lashes.

"Have I offended you?" she whispered, creeping closer. "I only wanted to
tell you what was in my heart. I don't want to hide anything from you."

"You have done quite right," said Clemence, embracing her; "run and
play, now, dear; a race will do you good and dry these tear-drops."

She kissed the little one and pushed her gently away; then leaned her
head upon her hand in the old attitude of weariness, and watched her
until the slight form of the child was lost to view among the trees.

Little Ruth's remarks had disturbed her. There was too much foundation
in their present circumstances for anxiety. Still there was one drop of
comfort in the midst of her trials. The young teacher knew that time had
dissipated the cloud of suspicion and distrust that had hung over her
for so long, and which had been created by the basest envy. The School
Committee had lately tendered her again her old position, which she had
declined with thanks. She was too weak to labor now, either with hands
or brain. What did this strange lassitude, this very weariness of
spirit,