leans on Hope's anchors. Death takes from him what
he loves; roots up, and tears violently away the stem round which his
affections were twined--a dark, dismal time, a frightful wrench--but
some morning Religion looks into his desolate house with sunrise, and
says, that in another world, another life, he shall meet his kindred
again. She speaks of that world as a place unsullied by sin--of that
life, as an era unembittered by suffering; she mightily strengthens
her consolation by connecting with it two ideas--which mortals cannot
comprehend, but on which they love to repose--Eternity, Immortality; and
the mind of the mourner, being filled with an image, faint yet glorious,
of heavenly hills all light and peace--of a spirit resting there in
bliss--of a day when his spirit shall also alight there, free and
disembodied--of a reunion perfected by love, purified from fear--he
takes courage--goes out to encounter the necessities and discharge the
duties of life; and, though sadness may never lift her burden from his
mind, Hope will enable him to support it.

Well--and what suggested all this? and what is the inference to be drawn
therefrom? What suggested it, is the circumstance of my best pupil--my
treasure--being snatched from my hands, and put away out of my reach;
the inference to be drawn from it is--that, being a steady, reasonable
man, I did not allow the resentment, disappointment, and grief,
engendered in my mind by this evil chance, to grow there to any
monstrous size; nor did I allow them to monopolize the whole space of my
heart; I pent them, on the contrary, in one strait and secret nook. In
the daytime, too, when I was about my duties, I put them on the silent
system; and it was only after I had closed the door of my chamber
at night that I somewhat relaxed my severity towards these morose
nurslings, and allowed vent to their language of murmurs; then, in
revenge, they sat on my pillow, haunted my bed, and kept me awake with
their long, midnight cry.

A week passed. I had said nothing more to Mdlle. Reuter. I had been calm
in my demeanour to her, though stony cold and hard. When I looked at
her, it was with the glance fitting to be bestowed on one who I knew
had consulted jealousy as an adviser, and employed treachery as an
instrument--the glance of quiet disdain and rooted distrust. On Saturday
evening, ere I left the house, I stept into the SALLE-A-MANGER, where
she was sitting alone, and, placing myself bef