“You have been bringing very grave charges against our sex, Mr. Bernard,” said Agnes, with a sweet seriousness, that, however unusual, well became her fair youthful face; “and I am afraid we should have to plead guilty in too many instances.  Still, even those who appear the most thoughtless, have their hours of reflection, no doubt, when they feel the utter insipidity of a life of pleasure—­false pleasure—­and form many resolutions to abandon it; but habit is strong, and example powerful, and once immersed in the gayeties of life, nothing short of strength from above can make them to ’come out from the world, and to become separate.’”

A deeper shade of seriousness passed over Agnes’s expressive countenance as she uttered these words.  It was evident they had evoked some painful recollections, and, as Arthur gazed on the down-cast face, on the long silken eyelashes that but half concealed the tear that unhidden rose to the lustrous eye, and observed her lip quivering with suppressed emotion, he easily divined, from his previous conversation with his sister, the cause of her agitation.

“She has suffered, and in the cause of truth,” was his mental ejaculation.  Oh, to have the privilege of cheering and sustaining one so lovely! but

    “Man may not hope her heart to win,
    Be his of common mould.”

CHAPTER IV.

A few select friends had assembled at Mrs. Bernard’s, to celebrate Ella’s birthday.

“It will not do to have a dancing-party, Mamma,” said Ella, when they were making the necessary arrangements, “it will not do to have a dancing-party, or Agnes will refuse to come, and I have set my heart on having her, and I strongly suspect somebody else has done the same,” glancing mischievously at her brother, who had just entered the room.  “I am sure, too, I shall enjoy myself a great deal better with a few select friends, than if we had a large, gay party.”

“Have it your own way, my dear,” said the mother, fondly kissing her daughter’s fair upturned brow; “if it pleases you, I am sure it will satisfy me.”

“Thank you, dear Mamma, and now I have nothing to do but to write my invitations, and send them.  But, Arthur, I declare you have not said a word; one would imagine, only I know better, that you do not feel at all interested in the matter.”

“Interested, why should I, in your foolish parties?  Do you not know I have something better to think of?”

“Doubtless, and you do not care in the least who accepts the invitations.  Now, confess, for you may as well, that when I proposed, a few evenings ago, having a small select gathering of friends for Agnes’s sake, your very eyes shone with joy, for all you did wear that provoking grave look.  Confess, too, that you have thought of little else ever since.  I am sure you dreamed about it last night, for you looked very smiling as you entered the breakfast room this morning.”