hard heart melted, though perhaps briefly, beneath angel influences.  We would see that all alike are the beloved creations of the Almighty’s hand, and we would weep over ourselves, as well as others, to feel how seldom we yield to the voice that would ever lead us aright.  Ann Lambert, as her heart overflowed with pure affection, thought sincerely that no selfish action of hers should ever sadden Christine.  She felt that she was unworthy, that she had been cruel and selfish, but she imagined her strong emotions of repentance had uprooted the evils, which had only been shaken.

Christine dried her tears, and looked earnestly and inquiringly in her sister’s face, as if she suspected there was some hidden sorrow with which she was unacquainted.  Ann answered her look by saying,

“You wonder what I was weeping for, when you awoke, Christine.  I had met with no sorrow; but when I looked at you, the course of conduct I had pursued towards you came up before me vividly:  I felt how unsisterly I had been—­”

“Say nothing about it,” interrupted Christine, with delicate generosity, “let the past be forgotten, the future shall be all brightness, dearest Ann.  We will pour out our hearts to each other, and each will strengthen the other in better purposes.  I am no longer alone, you love me and I am happy.”

That night, the dreams of the sisters were pure and peaceful.  One happy week passed away with Christine; Ann was affectionate and gentle, and only went out when accompanied by her.  They were inseparable; they read, wrote, studied, and sewed together.  For the time, Ann seemed to have laid aside her usual character; she yielded to her purest feelings; no incident had yet occurred to mar her tranquillity.  One evening, when she was reading aloud to Christine in their own apartment, a servant girl threw open the door and exclaimed,

“Miss Ann, there are two gentlemen waiting in the parlour to see you; Mr. Darcet and Mr. Burns!”

“Very well,” replied Ann, rising, and giving the book to Christine; but she took it away in the instant, and said,

“Come, Crissy, go down with me!”

“Oh, no matter,” replied her sister, “I am not acquainted with them, and I would rather stay up here, and read.  Mother will be in the parlour.”

“Suit yourself,” returned Ann, half carelessly, as she smoothed her hair.  “When you get tired of reading, come down.”

“I’ll see about it,” said Christine, as the door closed.

Ann looked beautiful indeed, as she entered the parlour, her features lit up with a smile of graceful welcome.  After a little easy trifling, the conversation turned upon subjects which she knew Christine would be interested in.  Under a kind impulse, she left the room, and hastened to her.

“Come down into the parlour, Christine,” she exclaimed, laying her hand affectionately upon her shoulder, as she approached.  “Mr. Darcet is telling about his travels in Europe, and I am sure you will be interested.  There (sic) isn o need of your being so unsociable.  Come, dear!”