kind friend and patient teacher in a schoolfellow, by the name of
Victorine Horton. This amiable young lady, seeing the trials and
mortifications of this sensitive child, begged Mrs. Bellamy to allow
Lilias to become her room-mate, and she would assist her in her lessons.
Some few weeks after this arrangement took place, Victorine was accosted
thus--

"How can you waste so much time on that _stupid_ child, Miss Horton?"
said one of the teachers. "She does not seem to improve any, with all
your pains; she will never repay your trouble."

"I do not despair," said Victorine, smiling. "She is an affectionate
little creature, and if continual dropping will wear away a stone,
surely, repeated kindness will melt the icy mantle of reserve which now
conceals her better qualities."

A happy child was little Lilias, thus to become the companion and
bedfellow of such a kind-hearted friend as she found in Victorine.
Stimulated by affection, she applied herself to her studies, and as
"perfect love casteth out fear," she was enabled to get her lessons, and
to recite them without that nervous timidity which had usually deprived
her of all power.

A few months after Victorine had thus undertaken the charge of Lilias, a
prize was offered, in each class, for the most elegantly written French
exercise. Lilias observed the eagerness of the pupils to compete for the
medals, but she never dreamed of becoming a candidate till Victorine
suggested it.

"I wish you would try to win the prize in your class, dear Lilias," said
Victorine.

"I, Victorine! It would be impossible."

"Why, impossible, Lilias? You have lately made great progress in the
study of French, and if I may judge by your last translation, you will
stand as good a chance as any of the class."

"But, you know, I have your assistance, Victorine, and if I were writing
for the prize I should be obliged to do it all myself."

"I gave you little aid in your last exercises, Lilias, and there are yet
two months before the time fixed for awarding the premiums, so you will
have opportunity enough to try your skill."

"But if I should not succeed, the whole school will laugh at me for
making the attempt."

"No, Lilias; those who possess proper feelings will never laugh at an
attempt to do right, and for those who can indulge an ill-natured jest
at the expense of a schoolfellow's feelings, you need not care. I am
very anxious you should make the attempt."

"Well, if _you_ wi