But you will not always remain there. Mr. Winthrop will not be so remiss
in his duty as your guardian as to bury you there. Marriage, and a
judicious settlement in life, are among the probabilities of your near
future."

My cheeks crimsoned; for marriage was one of the tabooed subjects of
conversation at Madame Buhlman's. Only in the solitude of our own rooms
did we dare to converse on such a topic. But no doubt we wove our
romances as industriously, and dreamed our dreams of the beautiful,
impossible future stretching beyond our dim horizons, as eagerly as if
we had been commanded to spend a certain portion of each day in its
contemplation.

Mrs. Flaxman noticed my embarrassment, and, after a few moments
said:--"Perhaps the fairy prince has already claimed his own."

I laughed lightly, but still felt ill at ease as I said: "I have never
met him, and begin to doubt if he has an existence."

"He is sure to come, soon or late; probably too soon to please me.
I shall miss you sadly when you go away from us."

I knelt beside her chair, a lump gathering in my throat, and my slow
coming tears ready to drop.

"I do not know why you should miss me, but it makes me so glad to hear
you say so. I have no one to really love me in the wide, wide world, that
is, whose love I can claim as a right, and sometimes the thought makes me
desolate."

She sat for awhile silently stroking my hair.

"I do not think yours will be a desolate, or lonely life, Medoline. It
is only the selfish who are punished in that way. The blessing of those
about the perish will overtake you, making the shadowy places in your
life bright."

"But there are no perishing ones conveniently near for me to save. I am
of little more use in the world than a humming bird."

"Already some of the Mill Road folk have been comforted by you. You
remember it is recorded of the Mary of Bethany; 'She hath done what she
could.' For that act of gratitude to the Master, her memory will be
cherished long after the sun is cold. We do not know if somewhere all our
minutest acts of unselfishness are not recorded, to be met with one day
with glad surprise on our part."

"I would rather be so remembered," I said with eager longing, "than to be
a Cleopatra or Helen of Troy."

"In what way is that?" Mr. Winthrop asked, as he stood looking down at me
from behind Mrs. Flaxman's chair. I sprang to my feet in consternation.
"We did not hear you enter," I faltered, very much asha