ithin her heart was a great need. Close at hand,
within the veil of the confessional, was the relief. She flung herself
down in the penitent's place; and, tremulously, passionately, with sobs,
tears, and the turbulent overflow of emotion too long repressed, she
poured out the dark story which had infused its poison into her innocent
life.

Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest.
But, at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half choked
by the struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a mild, calm
voice, somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her;
it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by a
great and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting the
girl's confidence to this unseen friend. The priest's share in the
interview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones,
clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the current of a
swollen stream. Hilda could have imagined--so much to the purpose were
his inquiries--that he was already acquainted with some outline of what
she strove to tell him.

Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole,
except that no name escaped her lips.

And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between words
and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! It
was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. She was a
girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creature
whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate,
by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments!

After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir
himself with an old man's reluctant movement. He stepped out of the
confessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential
corner, he summoned her forth.

"Stand up, my daughter," said the mild voice of the confessor; "what we
have further to say must be spoken face to face."

Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage,
which flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty which
we may often observe in those who have recently gone through a great
struggle, and won the peace that lies just on the other side. We see
it in a new mother's face; we see it in the faces of the dead; and
in Hilda's countenance--which had always a rare natural charm for her
friends--this glor