ed seat, and an old gentleman came out of the inner
office.

'What! what's this, David?' he asked. 'What ails the young woman?'

(She was then not quite seventeen.)

'She's ill, sir,' said David.

'Only a little tired, sir; I shall be better soon.'

'But thee _is_ ill, my child; thee looks so. Come here, Kate!' and the
old gentleman raised his voice as if speaking to some one in the inner
room. The sick girl lifted her eyes, and saw a blue-eyed, golden-haired
young woman, not so old as she was.

'She seems very sick, father. Please, David, get me some water;' and the
young lady undid the poor girl's bonnet, and bathed her temples with the
cool, grateful fluid. After a while the old gentleman asked:

'What brought thee here, young woman?'

'I came to see John--Mr. Hallet, I mean, sir.'

'Thee knows John, then?'

'Oh! yes, sir.'

'Where does thee live?'

She was about to say that she had no home, but checking herself, for it
would seem strange that a young girl who knew John Hallet, should be
homeless, she answered:

'In New-Hampshire. I live near old Mr. Hallet's, sir. I came to see John
because I've known him ever since I was a child.'

She drank of the water, and after a little time rose to go. As she
turned toward the door, the thought of going out alone, with her great
sorrow, into the wide, desolate world, crossed her mind, the heavy,
crushing pain came again into her heart, the dull, dizzy feeling into
her head, the room reeled, and she fell to the floor.

It was after dark when she came to herself. She was lying on a bed in a
large, splendidly furnished room, and the same old gentleman and the
same young woman were with her. Another old gentleman was there, and as
she opened her eyes, he said:

'She will be better soon; her nervous system has had a severe shock; the
difficulty is there. If you could get her to confide in you, 'twould
relieve her; it is _hidden_ grief that kills people. She needs rest,
now. Come, my child, take this,' and he held a fluid to her lips. She
drank it, and in a few moments sank into a deep slumber.

It was late on the following morning when she awoke, and found the same
young woman at her bedside.

'You are better, now, my sister. A few days of quiet rest will make you
well,' said the young lady.

The kind, loving words, almost the first she had ever heard from woman,
went to her heart, and she wept bitterly as she replied:

'Oh! no, there is no rest, no more r