e habit upon principle, then it
will be permanent. Much obliged for the compliment"--Alice bowed
with assumed dignity, and her sweet face dimpled into a playful
smile, "but I have no faith in these pretty speeches. Remember, now,
I have your promise to try to break the habit; you will forfeit your
word if you do not; so you see your position, don't you?" Thus
saying, and without waiting for a reply, the young lady left them.

"I believe Miss Clinton is right, after all," remarked Temple's
companion. "What is the use of jesting on such subjects? We never
feel any better after it, and we subject ourselves to the
displeasure of those who respect these things. I pass my word to
give it up, if you will, Temple."

"Agreed!" was Theodore's brief answer. Without saying how mingled
the motive might have been, which induced the young men to forsake
the habit, they _did_ forsake it permanently. Aunt Mary's lonely
life was at last smiled upon by a sunbeam--and that sunbeam was the
soul of Alice, which she had turned to the light. For that cherished
being Mary Clinton could have offered up her life, and there would
have been a joy in the sacrifice. Strongly and nobly were their
hearts knit together--beautiful is the devotedness of holy,
unselfish love! Blest are two frank hearts, which may be opened to
each other, pouring out like lava the tide of feeling hoarded in the
inward soul--such revelations are for moments when the yearning
heart will not be hushed to calmness. But "there is a moonlight in
human life," and there is also a blessing in that subdued hour which
whispers wearily to the loving one, of weaknesses and sins, with a
prayer for consoling strength to triumph yet, leaving them in the
dust. Thus was it with Mary and Alice Clinton; their souls were open
as the day to each other. They travelled along life's pathway with
earnest purpose, fulfilling the many and changing duties that fell
upon them, ever catching rich gleams of joy from above. And sorrows
came too! but they purified, and taught the slumbering soul its
rarest wealth--its deepest sympathies with all things good and
heavenly. It seemed a slight thing that took away the desolation
from the heart of Mary Clinton--she turned away from _self_, and
devoted her efforts to the eternal happiness of another. Is there
one human being in the wide world so desolate, that he may not do
likewise? Only a mite may be cast in, but God has made none of his
children so poor, as