no one can stand in the place of another, can sacrifice himself for
another? No, it is not,--it cannot be. She felt herself burdened, as by
an actual weight from heaven, at the stirring of this great question,
this great anxiety within her. Can a human being, then, do more harm
than good to another? Is it so? Must it be so? There was a violent
struggle in her soul; at last she smiled; a great conflict is appointed
for me, she thought, and it is already beginning. She was to save the
soul of her brother, and this, she told herself, could not be done by
violence, but only by gentleness and humility.

She rose, and returning to the room where she had left Roland, held out
her hand to him.

"I see," she said, "you are my grown-up brother; we must help one
another to become better. We have much to give and to take from each
other; that will come of itself."

She sat down quietly beside him, and held his hand tightly clasped in
hers.

"How pleasant it must seem to you to be at home again!" exclaimed
Roland. "The convent is no home for any one."

"For that very reason it is the best," returned Manna. "Every day,
every hour reminds us that we have no home in this world; that our
whole life is but a pilgrimage. If this world were our home, we should
both have, you and I--no. You too tempt me to say, what I should not."

"Eric is right," said Roland. "He says you are truly pious; what
millions speak only with their lips, you utter from your heart."

"Did Eric say that?"

"Yes, and much more."

"But, Roland," interrupted Manna, "you should, never tell what one
person says of another."

"Not if it is good?"

"Not even then. We cannot tell on that very account--no," she
interrupted herself; "are you not very happy in having so true a friend
in Eric?"

"Indeed I am; and do you not like him better than Pranken?"

A smile rose to Manna's lips, but she repressed it and said,--

"Your teacher should also teach you never to make comparisons. But now,
dear brother, remember that I have come from a convent, and need to be
much alone. Good-night!" she added, kissing him.

"Remember," he called back to her as he departed, "that you must take
your two dogs with you when you go to walk."

Manna was even yet not allowed to be alone. In the convent she had had
no one to wait upon her, but here her father insisted on her having a
maid to undress her.

The woman praised her beautiful black hair as she let it down.

"Ah, my F