acquainted her with the news,
"how can I bear to have Willie go away? How can I live without Willie?
He is so kind, and loves me so much! He was always better than any
brother, and, since Uncle True died, he has done everything in the world
for me. I believe I could not have borne Uncle True's death if it had
not been for Willie; and now how can I let him go away?"

"It is hard, Gertrude," said Emily, kindly, "but it is no doubt for his
advantage; you must try and think of that."

"I know it," replied Gertrude--"I suppose it is; but, Miss Emily, you do
not know how I love Willie. We were so much together; and there were
only us two, and we thought everything of each other; he was so much
older than I, and always took such good care of me. O, I don't think you
have any idea what friends we are!"

Gertrude had unconsciously touched a chord that vibrated through Emily's
whole frame. Her voice trembled as she answered, "_I_, Gertrude! _not
know_, my child! I know better than you imagine, how dear he must be to
you. I, too, had----" then she paused abruptly, and there were a few
moments' silence, during which Emily got up, walked hastily to the
window, pressed her aching head against the frosty glass, and then
returning, said, in a low voice which had recovered its usual calmness,
"O Gertrude! in the grief that oppresses you now, you little realise how
much you have to be thankful for. Think, my dear, what a blessing it is
that Willie will be where you can often hear from him, and where he can
have constant news of his friends."

"Yes," replied Gerty; "he says he shall write to me and his mother very
often."

"Then, too," said Emily, "you ought to rejoice at the good opinion Mr.
Clinton must have of Willie: the confidence he must feel in his
uprightness, to place in him so much trust. I think that is very
flattering."

"So it is," said Gerty; "I did not think of that."

"And you have lived so happily together," continued Emily, "and will
part in such perfect peace. O Gertrude! Gertrude! such a parting as that
should not make you sad; there are so much worse things in the world. Be
patient, my dear child; do your duty, and perhaps there will some day be
a happy meeting, that will repay you for all you suffer in the
separation."

Emily's voice trembled as she uttered the last few words. Gertrude's
eyes were fixed upon her friend with a puzzled expression. "Miss Emily,"
said she, "I begin to think that everything has