dded pairs, she tried to smile, though her smile was
as cold as a moonbeam on snow.

Helen's eyes filled with tears at the sight of that faint, cold smile.
She thought of Clinton, as he had first appeared among them, splendid in
youthful beauty, and then of Clinton, languishing in chains, and doomed
to long imprisonment in a lonely dungeon. She thought of her sister's
wasted affections, betrayed confidence, and blasted hopes, and
contrasting _her_ lot with her own blissful destiny, she turned aside
her head and wept.

"Weep not, Helen," said Arthur, in a low voice, divining the cause of
her emotion, and fixing on the retiring form of Mittie his own
glistening eye; "she now sows in tears, but she may yet reap in joy.
Hers is a mighty struggle, for her character is composed of strong and
warring elements. Her mind has grasped the sublime truths of religion,
and when once her heart embraces them, it will kindle with the fire of
martyrdom. I have studied her deeply, intensely, and believe me, my own
dear Helen, my too sad and tearful bride, though she is now wading
through cold and troubled waters, her feet will rest on the green margin
of the promised land."

And this prophecy was indeed fulfilled. Mittie never became gentle,
amiable and loving, like Helen, for as Arthur had justly said, her
character was composed of strong and warring elements--but after a long
and agonizing strife, she did become a zealous and devoted Christian.
The hard, metallic materials of her nature were at last fused by the
flame of divine love. She had passed through a baptism of fire, and
though it had blistered and scarred, it had purified her heart.
Christianity, in her, never wore a serene and joyous aspect. Its diadem
was the crown of thorns, its drink often the vinegar and gall. It was on
the Mount of Calvary, not of Transfiguration, that she beheld her
Saviour, and her God.

Had she been a Catholic, she would have worn the vesture of sackcloth,
and slept upon the bed of iron, and even used the knotted scourge in
expiation of her sins, but as the severe simplicity of her Protestant
faith forbade such penances, she manifested, by the most rigid
self-denial and strictest devotion, the sincerity of her penitence and
the fervor of her faith.

Was Miss Thusa forgotten? Did she sleep in her lonely grave unhonored
and unmourned?

In a corner of Helen's own room, conspicuous in the mids of the elegant,
modern furniture that adorns it, there