ve learned from it is to 'bear.' Bear everything
that can be borne. You will be surprised what a load you will carry by
mere practice of endurance."

"It is so easy to say to one in pain, 'Have patience,'" said she,
bitterly.

"I have practised what I teach for many a year. Be assured of one
thing,--the Battle of Life is waged by all. The most favored by
fortune--the luckiest, as the world calls them--have their contest and
their struggle. It is not for existence, but it is often for what makes
existence valuable."

She sighed deeply, and, after a pause, he went on,--

"We pity the poor, weary, heart-sick litigant, wearing out life in the
dreary prosecution of a Chancery suit, dreaming at night of that fortune
he is never to see, and waking every day to the same dull round of
pursuit. As hope flickers in his heart, suffering grows a habit; his
whole nature imbibes the conflicting character of his cause; he doubts
and hesitates and hopes and fears and wishes, till his life is one long
fever. But infinitely more painful is the struggle of the heart whose
affections have been misplaced. These are the suits over which no hope
ever throws a ray. It is a long, dreary path, without a halting-place or
a goal."

As he spoke, she covered her face with her handkerchief; but he could
perceive that she was weeping.

"I am speaking of what I know," said he. "I remember once coming
closely into relations with a young nobleman whose station, fortune,
and personal advantages combined to realize all that one could fancy of
worldly blessings. He was just one of those types a novelist would take
to represent the most favored class of the most favored land of Europe.
He had an ancient name, illustrious in various ways, a splendid
fortune, was singularly endowed with abilities, highly accomplished, and
handsome, and, more than all, he was gifted with that mysterious
power of fascination by which some men contrive to make themselves so
appreciated by others that their influence is a sort of magic. Give him
an incident to relate,--let him have a passing event to tell, wherein
some emotion of pity, some sentiment of devotion played a part,--and
without the slightest touch of artifice, without the veriest shade of
ingenuity, he could make you listen breathlessly, and hang in rapture on
his words. Well, this man--of whom, if I suffer myself to speak, I
shall grow wearisome in the praise--this man was heart-broken. Before he
succeeded to h