ntrast this picture with that of Caroline Randall's heartless
splendor, and say whether thou wilt choose for thy portion the
gratification of the true and pure household affections which Heaven has
planted in thy nature, or that of a selfish vanity?

CHAPTER V.

This morning, as I sat in the library writing a letter, Annie came in
and seated herself at a table on the opposite side of the room. Her
unusual stillness caused me to look up after some minutes, and I found
that Mr. Arlington's portfolio having been left upon the table, she had
drawn from it one of his pencilings, and was gazing steadfastly upon it,
as I could not but think, with something troubled in the expression of
her usually open and cheerful face. While I was still observing her, the
door behind her opened, and Mr. Arlington himself entered. A blush arose
to Annie's cheeks as she saw him; a blush which had its origin, I
thought, in some deeper feeling than a mere girlish shame at being found
so engrossed by one of his productions.

"What have you there?" he asked, as seating himself beside her, he took
the paper from what seemed to me her somewhat reluctant hand. No sooner
had he looked on it, than his own bright face became shadowed, as hers
had been, and yet he smiled, too, as he said, "That portfolio is really
an _omnium gatherum_. I had no idea this had found its way there. When I
first read Mrs. Hemans' poem of 'The Bird's Release,' it reminded me of
this scene of my boyhood, though if I have never spoken to you of my
darling Grace, you will not be able to understand why."

"You never have," said Annie, answering his looks rather than his words,
while a slight increase of color was again perceptible in her fair
cheek.

"She was my sister, my only sister; we were but two, the petted darlings
of a widowed mother. I told you, that few could sympathize as I could
with Koerner's memory of Mother-love. I was but six years old, and just
such a chubby, broad-shouldered little varlet, I fancy, as I have
sketched here, when Grace, who was two years older, and the loveliest,
merriest little creature in the world, died. My mother was already
beginning to feel the influence of that disease, which, two years later,
terminated her life, and, I have no doubt, the death of Grace, who was
her idol, increased the rapidity of its progress."

There was silence for some minutes, and then Annie said softly, "But
what of the bird?"

"It was a thrush which