notice you properly yet,
Louise. Heavens! it's glorious that you are come again into our
neighbourhood; now I think I shall be able to see you every day! and you
can also enjoy here the fresh air of the country. You have got thin, but
I really think you have grown!"

Louise said laughingly, that the time for that was over with her.

The sisters also, among themselves, made their observations on Louise.
They were rejoiced to see her, among all her things, so exactly herself
again.

Handsomer she certainly had not become--but people cannot grow handsomer
to all eternity. She looked well and she looked good, had no more of the
cathedral about her; she was an excellent Archdeacon's lady.

* * * * *

We transport ourselves now to Sara's chamber.

When a beloved and guiltless child returns, after sufferings overcome,
to the bosom of parents into a beloved home, who can describe the sweet
delight of its situation? The pure enjoyment of all the charms of home;
the tenderness of the family; the resigning themselves to the heavenly
feeling of being again at home? But the guilty----

We have seen a picture of the prodigal son which we shall never forget!
It is the moment of reconciliation: the father opens his arms to the
son; the son falls into them and hides his face. Deep compunction of the
heart bows down his head, and over his pale cheek--the only part of his
countenance which is visible, runs a tear--a tear of penitence and pain,
which says everything. The golden ring may be placed upon his hand; the
fatted calf may be killed and served up before him--he cannot feel gay
or happy--embittering tears gush forth from the fountains of memory.

Thus was it with Sara, and exactly to that degree in which her heart was
really purified and ennobled. As she woke out of a refreshing sleep in
her new home, and saw near her her child sleeping on the soft snow-white
bed; as she saw all, by the streaming in light of the morning sun, so
festally pure and fresh; as she saw how the faithful memory of affection
had treasured up all her youthful predilections; as she saw her
favourite flowers, the asters, beaming upon the stove, in an alabaster
vase; and as she thought how all this had been--and how it now was--she
wept bitterly.

Petrea, who was reading in the window of Sara's room waiting for her
awaking, stood now with cordial and consoling words near her bed.

"Oh, Petrea!" said Sara, taking her hand