lf by saying, in an
under-tone, to one who sat near her--

"They may say what they please, but I am well enough acquainted with
her to know that she is no better than other people."

Thus the conversation and the conjectures went round, while the subject
of them sat in solitude and sadness in her own chamber. Finally, the
minister said that he would call in and have some conversation with her
on the next day, as he had no doubt that there was some trouble on her
mind, and it might be in his power to relieve it.

Monday morning came at last, and Aunt Mary proceeded, though with but
little interest in her occupation, to "do over" her preserves. She
found them in a state that gave her little hope of being able to
restore them to any thing like their original flavour. But the trial
must be made, and so she filled her kettle as full as requisite of a
particular kind, and hung it over a slow fire. This had hardly been
done, when Hannah came in and said--

"As I live, Mrs. Pierce, there is the minister coming up the walk!"

And sure enough, on glancing out, she saw the minister almost at the
door-step.

"Bless me!" she exclaimed, and then hurried into her little parlour, to
await the knock of her unexpected visitor. At almost any other time, a
call from the minister would have been delightful. But now, poor Aunt
Mary felt that she would as soon have seen any one else.

The knock came in a moment, and, after a pause, the door was opened.

"How do you do, Aunt Mary? I am very glad to see you," said the
minister, extending his hand.

Aunt Mary looked troubled and confused; but she received him in the
best way she could. Still her manner embarrassed them both. After a few
leading observations, the minister at length said--

"You seem troubled, Aunt Mary. Can any thing that I might say relieve
the pain of mind you evidently feel?"

The tears came into Aunt Mary's eyes, but she could not venture to
reply. The minister observed her emotion, and also the meek expression
of her countenance.

"Do not vex yourself unnecessarily," he remarked. "If any thing has
gone wrong with you, deal frankly with your minister. You know that I
am ever ready to counsel and advise."

"I know it," said Aunt Mary, and her voice trembled. "And I need much
your kind direction. Yet I hardly know how to tell you my troubles. One
thing, however, is certain. I have done wrong. But how to mend that
wrong I know not, while there exists an unwilling