the
hidden recesses of the soul, breaking and scattering the clouds of
evil, which had impeded its descent--we would see the hard heart
melted, though perhaps briefly, beneath angel influences. We would
see that all alike are the beloved creations of the Almighty's hand,
and we would weep over ourselves, as well as others, to feel how
seldom we yield to the voice that would ever lead us aright. Ann
Lambert, as her heart overflowed with pure affection, thought
sincerely that no selfish action of hers should ever sadden
Christine. She felt that she was unworthy, that she had been cruel
and selfish, but she imagined her strong emotions of repentance had
uprooted the evils, which had only been shaken.

Christine dried her tears, and looked earnestly and inquiringly in
her sister's face, as if she suspected there was some hidden sorrow
with which she was unacquainted. Ann answered her look by saying,

"You wonder what I was weeping for, when you awoke, Christine. I had
met with no sorrow; but when I looked at you, the course of conduct
I had pursued towards you came up before me vividly: I felt how
unsisterly I had been--"

"Say nothing about it," interrupted Christine, with delicate
generosity, "let the past be forgotten, the future shall be all
brightness, dearest Ann. We will pour out our hearts to each other,
and each will strengthen the other in better purposes. I am no
longer alone, you love me and I am happy."

That night, the dreams of the sisters were pure and peaceful. One
happy week passed away with Christine; Ann was affectionate and
gentle, and only went out when accompanied by her. They were
inseparable; they read, wrote, studied, and sewed together. For the
time, Ann seemed to have laid aside her usual character; she yielded
to her purest feelings; no incident had yet occurred to mar her
tranquillity. One evening, when she was reading aloud to Christine
in their own apartment, a servant girl threw open the door and
exclaimed,

"Miss Ann, there are two gentlemen waiting in the parlour to see
you; Mr. Darcet and Mr. Burns!"

"Very well," replied Ann, rising, and giving the book to Christine;
but she took it away in the instant, and said,

"Come, Crissy, go down with me!"

"Oh, no matter," replied her sister, "I am not acquainted with them,
and I would rather stay up here, and read. Mother will be in the
parlour."

"Suit yourself," returned Ann, half carelessly, as she smoothed her
hair. "When you