iously endeavouring to
imitate the whistle of the farmer-boys.

Adele Rougeant sympathized with birds; she felt attracted towards
them, for she too was a bird. She had been, for a time, caged; but
now she was perfectly free, for six more months at least. She
trusted to be out of the difficulty by then. Why; she did not know;
something within her seemed to assure her that it would be so.

When, a week afterwards, Tom Soher was taken ill, she thought of
that strange certainty which she had had. Was he going to die?
Something within her said: "If he could, I then should be saved."
Adele grew angry with herself for wishing such an abominable thing.
She dispersed the wicked thought which had formed into a wish, with
all the energy which she was capable of displaying.

To think that she had had such a desire. She was ashamed of herself.

Next day, when she heard that Tom's condition was worse than ever,
involuntarily her heart leapt with joy. How sinful is the heart of
man!

Adele's better nature rose against these feelings. Finally she
overcame them. She tried to pity her cousin and partly succeeded in
doing so. When she fancied herself freed from him, she felt
relieved; when she pictured herself dying in his place, she
immediately pitied him. And she put this question to herself: "Is
sympathy a virtue?" No. Most often, when people sympathize with
others they say: "Just imagine if we were in their place; they
really think for themselves."

This was now her view of the matter. Perhaps it was not quite
correct, but there was a great deal of truth in it.

Tom Soher was not to die this time. The crisis passed. He rallied
almost as rapidly as he had lost strength.

Mr. Rougeant visited him daily. His daughter listened to the news of
Tom's recovery, with attention. The farmer was pleased. "She takes
more interest in him than she cares to show;" he said to himself.

One fine afternoon, in summer, Adele, whose spirits were as bright
as the weather, was sitting in a chair--thinking. Her thoughts flew
hither and thither. They were full of bright hope. She sat where she
was for nearly one hour, her head full of vague thoughts,
aspirations after perfect womanhood.

As her thoughts rambled, she recalled to mind a flower and fruit
show that was to take place that afternoon in the Vegetable Markets.

"I think I shall go," she said to herself.

She spoke to her father about it. He answered her not unkindly: "I
believe you wo