t."

"Let us hope, Anna, that time will give us back some of our former
happiness," said Mrs. Carleton.

"The grave is unrelenting, Ada; it never gives back what it has taken
from us. I will tell you all some day. I cannot talk about the past now;
it would unfit me for being of use to others who have suffered; it
would make me no companion for you and dear Cora; it would be selfish to
intrude my life upon you."

"No, Anna, pray tell me why I sometimes see so sad an expression on your
face which you change the instant you find I am looking at you. You know
you have never alluded to any event in your life prior to our being
shipwrecked. You have told me of your childhood, certainly, but that was
so bright and happy that the recollection of it must be an endless
source of thankfulness. Now I again pray of you, tell me all."

"As you so much wish it, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "I will tell you
that the sunlight went out of my life too soon. At the time I first met
you the world was all darkness to me; all my days and years were winter,
and my only wish was to die."

"Oh Anna, do not say that," said Mrs. Carleton; "but go on and tell me
why."

"Forgive me, I fear I was rebellious, but I only thought of the present.
I could not look forward; it seemed as if there were no future for me
here. I was alone; the only lips which had the right to breathe my name
were sealed in death, and the stately dignity or cold respect with which
I was always addressed reminded me hourly of my isolated existence. I
have no words that can express to you the utter desolation I felt in
having no one to call me by name. I often sought the whispering of the
wind through the trees, the leaves and the long, waving grass in the
hope that it might emit a sound which my fancy could fashion into the
once familiar name, but all in vain; the trees and the leaves and the
grass, even the rocks and hills, whispered and murmured and talked of
many things, but the sound I most longed to hear came never."

Anna noticed that Mrs. Carleton looked sorrowful. She ceased speaking.

"Why did you stop, Anna; go on."

"I am distressing you, I see," answered Miss Vyvyan; "I ought not to
pain you."

"Please go on, Anna."

"I cannot expect you to comprehend my exceeding loneliness at that time,
because your life has never been empty, and you have now your beautiful
child. When first I met you I had nothing. When I say nothing, I do not
mean to infer that I was