are: and you
have learned to read from Nelly, haven't you?"

"Yes, we have," was the quiet reply; "but we wish to learn something
more than that."

"Then you must go to some charity school, miss, for I have no money to
pay for such nonsense; you can read, and write, and sew, and what more
would you have? Pass the claret nearer, and reach me those cigars; and
take yourselves off, for my head is splitting."

I must draw a vail over Gabrielle's passion when we were alone.

"It is not for myself only that I sorrow," she exclaimed, as her sobs
subsided; "but you, poor, little, delicate thing, with your lameness,
what is to become of you in the big world if you are left alone? You can
not be a servant; and what are we to do without education? for Nelly has
told me our father's income dies with him."

Her expressions were incoherent; and when I tried to comfort her, by
assurances that the blessed Saviour cared for the fatherless, she turned
away and left me. So ended the first and last application to our parent.

When I remember Gabrielle's career from that period to her sixteenth
year I much marvel at the precocity of intellect she exhibited, and the
powers of mind with which she was endowed. We had no money to procure
books--no means to purchase even the common necessaries of clothing,
which too often made us ashamed to appear in church. But suddenly
Gabrielle seemed to become a woman, and I her trusting child. She was
silent and cold; but not sullen or cold to me, though her mouth became
compressed as if from bitter thought, and never lost that expression
again, save when she smiled. Oh, that sunny smile of radiant beauty! I
see it now--I see it now! I tried to win her, by coaxing and fondling,
to read the Holy Book; but Gabrielle said we were outcasts, and deserted
by God. When I heard that my wan cheeks burned with indignation, and I
exclaimed, "You are wicked to say so;" but Gabrielle was not angry, for
tears stood in her eyes as she fixed them on me, whispering,

"Poor little cripple--sweet, gentle, loving sister--the angels that
whisper these good things to you pass me over. I hear them not, Ruth."

"Sister, sister, they speak and you will not hear: do you think the
stupid, lame Ruth is favored beyond the clever, the beautiful, the noble
Gabrielle?"

Then with an outburst of passionate love she would take me in her arms,
and weep long and bitterly. I knew that I could not enter into the
depths of her feelings