“The world may scorn me, if they choose-I care
    But little for their scoffings.  I may sink
    For moments; but I rise again, nor shrink
  From doing what the faithful heart inspires. 
    I will not falter, fawn, nor crouch, nor wink,
    At what high-mounted wealth or power desires;
  I have a loftier aim, to which my soul aspires.”

“We regret that we must leave, now,” said Mrs. Austin to her friend, after they had returned to the drawing-room and conversed awhile.

“We would gladly detain you longer, but knowing you have a long drive, we cannot conscientiously do so,” said Miss Bernard; “but may we not hope to see you both, again?”

“Not unless you return our visit; we cannot take another long drive right away, having so many ways to move, and so little time to spare.  But come and see us whenever you can.”

“Thank you,” replied Miss Bernard, and Basil bowed, while his eyes rested on Dawn.

“We should both be happy to see you again, Miss Wyman,” he said, taking her hand, and the horses having been brought to the door, he helped her into the saddle first, and then Mrs. Austin.

They bounded away, and were soon far from the hospitable home, discussing, as they rode side by side, the merits and beauties of its occupants.

“I did not tell you Miss Bernard’s name.  I think her brother did not mention it while we were there; now what do you think it can be?”

“I do not know; perhaps Margaret-a pearl.  No, not that; maybe, Agathe, which signifies good; and yet I do not feel I have it yet.”

“No; guess again.”

“I thought once while there, it might be Beatrice, for she seems like one who blesses.”

“You are right.  That is her name, and most nobly does she illustrate its signification.”

“I am glad, for I hoped it was.  How strange their names should so suit their natures,” said Dawn, musingly.

“Not if you knew them and their ancestry.  They are of German descent, and believe in all sorts of traditions, and, as I have said before, supernatural things.  They live almost wholly in sentiment, and are little known save by a very few.  I like them, yet I cannot tell why.  When in their presence I feel a sort of transcendental charm, a something intangible, but restful to my soul.  It’s only with you and them, Dawn, that I ever feel thus, and that is why I brought you together.”

“I can never thank you enough, but I wish to know them better.”

“You shall.  Did I not see how they felt your sphere, as you ‘impressionists’ say.”

“I hope they felt my desire for a better life, for it is a great rest to be comprehended.  It is as though some one took us by the hand, and led us over the hard places of life.”

“I wish I could feel and live as you do, Dawn.  You seem to have something so much deeper and richer in your life, than I have in mine-but, I suppose you would say, if I wanted deeper thoughts, I should search and find them.”