ity, the most exquisite feeling of
modesty, at the great honor which had undeservedly been bestowed upon
her, with indescribable and immeasurable happiness, was displayed upon
her features, expressing as much her own personal emotion as that of the
character which she was endeavoring to represent.

Charlotte was delighted with the beautiful figures; but what had most
effect on her was the child. Her eyes filled with tears, and her
imagination presented to her in the liveliest colors the hope that she
might soon have such another darling creature on her own lap.

They had let down the curtain, partly to give the exhibitors some little
rest, partly to make an alteration in the exhibition. The artist had
proposed to himself to transmute the first scene of night and lowliness
into a picture of splendor and glory; and for this purpose had prepared
a blaze of light to fall in from every side, which this interval was
required to kindle.

Ottilie, in the semi-theatrical position in which she found herself, had
hitherto felt perfectly at her ease, because, with the exception of
Charlotte and a few members of the household, no one had witnessed this
devout piece of artistic display. She was, therefore, in some degree
annoyed when in the interval she learnt that a stranger had come into
the saloon, and had been warmly received by Charlotte. Who it was no one
was able to tell her. She therefore made up her mind not to produce a
disturbance, and to go on with her character. Candles and lamps blazed
out, and she was surrounded by splendor perfectly infinite. The curtain
rose. It was a sight to startle the spectators. The whole picture was
one blaze of light; and instead of the full depth of shadow, there now
were only the colors left remaining, which, from the skill with which
they had been selected, produced a gentle softening of tone. Looking out
under her long eyelashes, Ottilie perceived the figure of a man sitting
by Charlotte. She did not recognize him; but the voice she fancied was
that of the Assistant at the school. A singular emotion came over her.
How many things had happened since she last heard the voice of him, her
kind instructor. Like a flash of forked lightning the stream of her joys
and her sorrow rushed swiftly before her soul, and the question rose in
her heart: Dare you confess, dare you acknowledge it all to him? If not,
how little can you deserve to appear before him under this sainted form;
and how strange m