who were imposing
some heavy task upon themselves, Lina was the only light-hearted child
of nature; and she was regarded by those who looked upon her rather
with envious than contemptuous eyes.

"Ah! could one but be like her!" sighed each one in his own way.

Lina, gradually, became less demonstrative and excitable through the
quiet influence of the Professorin. It gave her pleasure to be able to
understand a great deal of what the Professorin said; but there were
many things beyond her comprehension. What does it matter? One must not
take all there is in the dish,--one must leave something for others.

It was beautiful to see Manna coming in her bright summer dress through
the park to the cottage. But she manifested to the Professorin only a
respectful confidence; she always addressed her as Madame, and spoke to
her in French, the language she had been accustomed to use at the
convent. To all questions she gave direct answers.

"Had you any particular friend at the convent?" the Professorin once
asked.

"No, it is not allowed. One must not show any special affection, but
treat all with an equal love."

"If it would not weary you, I should like to ask another question."

"Oh, you do not weary me in the least. I like to talk of the convent
better than any thing else; I think of it all the time. Ask what you
please."

"Had you a particularly confidential relation with any one of the
ladies?"

Manna mentioned the name of the Superior, and was greatly surprised to
hear the Professorin extol the beauty of such a life as hers; that
there could be nothing more blissful than to confer peace and joy upon
young children, to aid them to become strong, to overcome the trials of
existence. It was a life that death could not change, and in which the
sorrow of parting and absence could never be known.

The Professorin repeated that she should regard it as a crime, to say a
single word that should shake a soul desiring to devote itself to such
a life.

"Dear child, thou hast chosen the right path according to thy light."

Manna bowed, and she seemed transfigured. It did not occur to her that
the Professorin had spoken to her all at once so affectionately. But
now she shrank into herself with alarm. Is this not one of the
temptations? Does not this woman praise her, enter into her utmost
soul, in order to win her over and seduce her from the faith? A glance
of suspicion shot from those youthful eyes upon the elderly lad