ee me in my misery," she
murmured, in a sweet, pathetic tone that went to her visitor's heart, as
she sat a chair, and, by a graceful gesture invited her to be seated.

Sybil was herself impulsive and confiding, as well as romantic and
generous. She immediately drew her chair up to the side of the strange
lady, took her hand affectionately, and tried to look up in her eyes, as
she said:

"We are personal strangers to each other; but we are the children of one
Father, and sisters who should care for each other."

"Ah! who would care to claim sisterhood with such a wretch as I am?"
sighed the unhappy young creature.

"_I_ would; but you must not call yourself ill-names. Misfortunes are
not sins. I came here to comfort and help you--to comfort and help you
not in words merely, but in deeds; and I have both the power and the
will to do it, if you will please to let me try," said Sybil, gently.

The young creature looked up, her lovely, tearful, blue eyes expanded
with astonishment.

"You offer to comfort and help me! _Me_--a perfect stranger, with a
cloud of dishonor hanging over me! Oh, madam, if you knew _all_, you
would certainly withdraw your kind offer," she said.

"I will not withdraw it in any event. I _do_ know all that your landlord
could tell me, and that awakens my deepest sympathy for you. But I do
not know all that _you_ could tell me. Now, dear, I want you to confide
in me as you could not confide either in your landlord, or even in his
mother."

"Oh, no, no! I could not tell either of them. They were kind; but--oh,
so hard!"

"Now, dear, then, look in my face, look well, and tell me whether you
can confide in me," said Sybil, gently.

"If I had never seen your heavenly countenance--if I had only heard
your heavenly voice, I could confide in you, as in the holy mother of
Christ," said the stranger fervently.

"Tell me then, dear; tell me all you wish to tell; relieve your heart;
lay all your burdens on my bosom; and then you shall feel how well I can
comfort and help you," said Sybil, putting her hand around the fair neck
and drawing the little golden-haired head upon her breast.

Then and there the friendless young stranger--friendless now, no
more--told her piteous story.

CHAPTER VI.

ROSA BLONDELLE.

Her form had all the softness of her sex,
Her face had all the sweetness of the devil
W