an
others. Indeed, the more clear those spiritual perceptions, the more
poignant are the sufferings which they involve; life can scarcely afford
a situation more pathetic than hers.

Alone in a great city, young and beautiful, capable of enjoying
happiness with a singular appreciation, the victim of a complicated set
of circumstances for the comprehension and management of which her early
life had afforded no training; guilty of a great sin, but if one could
say so, innocently guilty, and penitent; consecrated to duty, but torn
asunder by conflicting emotions as if upon a wheel--of what deeper
sorrow is the soul capable?

When she extinguished that candle she extinguished the sun of her human
happiness; but it happened to her as it has happened to countless
others, that in the darkness which ensued she saw a myriad beautiful
stars.

The next morning Pepeeta resolutely took up the heavy burden of her life
and bore it uncomplainingly, adjusting herself as the brave and patient
have ever done, to the necessities of her daily existence. Her little
attic room became a sort of sanctuary, and began to take upon itself a
reflection of her nature. She built it to fit her own character and
needs, as a bird builds its nest to fit its bosom.

It may be said of most of us that we secrete our homes as the snails do
their shells. They become a sort of material embodiment of our spirits,
a physical expression of our whole thought about life. Before long
flowers were blooming in Pepeeta's window; a mocking bird was singing in
a cage above it; on the wall hung the old tambourine and one after
another many little inexpensive but brightening bits and scraps of
things such as women pick up by instinct found their places in this
simple attic.

She seldom left it for the outside world, except when she went to
deliver the work she had finished, and on Sundays when she spent the
morning wandering from one church to another. As a consequence of these
brief but regular pilgrimages her beautiful face became familiar to the
residents of some of the side streets where the women and children made
her low courtesies and the men doffed their hats by that divine instinct
of reverence which we all feel in the presence of the beautiful and the
good.

A double craving devours our human hearts--for solitude and for
companionship. As there are hours when we thirst to be alone, there are
others when we hunger for the touch of a human hand, the glance