ther they were easy or not,
and enjoyed the few simple pleasures that came in her way.

"It is not because she is stupid, or that she does not know anything
else," said Gertrude to herself. "She enjoys reading and learning as
well as I do, and makes a far better use of the chance she has: and yet
she lives on from day to day, wearying herself with little Claude, and
stitching away, as though she cared for nothing beyond. Wouldn't she
enjoy being rich, and sending things to her family! Why, the delight
she had over that common grey plaid that she sent to her aunt was quite
absurd--and quite touching too. It cost her two months' wages at the
very least, but she did not seem to think of that. The only thing that
marred her happiness at all that day was the want of a few pence that
would have enabled her to buy a warm pair of slippers to go with the
shawl. She doesn't seem to think of herself. I wonder why?"

And Gertrude watched her still, thinking her often needlessly particular
in the performance of small duties, and losing patience now and then,
when these things interfered with her wishes. But the more she watched
her daily life the more sure she felt that Christie had some secret of
sweet peace which she had not yet found. She knew that her strength and
cheerfulness daily renewed came from none of the helps to which one in
her circumstances might naturally look. It was not the knowledge that
she was valued, nor the feeling that little Claude was beginning to love
her dearly, that sustained her; though Gertrude could see that these
were pleasant and precious to the little maid. It was not even the
thought of home, or Effie's letters, or the pleasant word they brought
of how she was missed and how they wished her with them. It was not the
hope of the time when they should all be together again. To these
ardent young people this re-union seemed by no means impossible, or even
distant. With Gertrude's help, Christie often built castles in the air,
about a farm which was to be the wonder of the country-side, where they
were all to live together, and where Gertrude herself was to pass many a
pleasant day.

But it was not this, nor all of these, that brought the look of sweet
contentment to that pale face, when she thought herself quite
unobserved. It was there sometimes when she was wearied. She was not
naturally hopeful or cheerful. She had none of that happy
self-confidence which makes burdens light and