ound them, and shut out from her the bright, happy life of
the past. Her duties were performed as before. With others she was
sufficiently animated; but when alone, she was wretched. Thus the months
rolled on, till they became a year; and I, who had never been deceived
by her occasional liveliness, began to think what I could do to change
the current of her thoughts, which seemed to have no tendency to change
of themselves.

'But Laetitia's life was not all feeling. Feeling suffers passively,
with greater or less endurance, according to the strength of the
physical frame, but the intellect always seeks a remedy for sorrow. It
seemed horrible to her that she of all the world--of all her world, at
least--should be so homely that no one could look on her without pain.
It was intolerable, it ought not to have been, but it _was_ permitted,
it must be. Rebellion came of course, bitter rebellion, but it could do
no good. There was the fate, it was impossible to escape it. What then?
Drag through a miserable life till death came happily to relieve it? She
was too young. Fifty, sixty years of travel over a dreary, barren waste,
with no joy upon it? No, no, she could not do it--suicide first. But
suicide was wrong, and could never be resorted to. There _must_ be some
relief elsewhere. Where was it? what was it?

'Continual dropping will wear away a stone, and continual thinking will
wear a hollow into the stoniest of mysteries. At length, through all the
mists of proximate causes and natural laws, some glorious truths became
clear to her. The near and the visible receded to their proper
importance, and she learned to hold principles and ideas more dear than
the externals which embody them. She saw that God loves His children
equally, and though the laws of nature must take their course, there is
room for each result in His design; and in the infinite of His heart and
His work each individual has place and purpose. She found, too, that
angels laden with joy might descend and ascend between His soul and hers
without a ladder made of earthly triumphs and successes. Thus in place
of rebellion came happy acquiescence.

'But she was not yet contented. She was convinced that there was a life
for her which she could not or would not lead if she were like others;
but this life she could not find. She saw no intimations of it in
herself. She had no genius for any special thing, and she continued
restless and disturbed, wondering what it