t on purpose for me. I
think Uncle True lights it every night. I always feel as if he were
smiling up there, and saying, 'See, Gerty, I'm lighting the lamp for
you.' Dear Uncle True! Miss Emily, do you think he loves me now?"

"I do, indeed, Gertrude; and I think, if you make him an example, and
try to live as good and patient a life as he did, that he will really be
a lamp to your feet, and as bright a light to your path as if his face
were shining down upon you through the star."

"I was patient and good when I lived with him; at least, I almost always
was; and I'm good when I'm with you; but I don't like Mrs. Ellis. She
tries to plague me, and she makes me angry, and I don't know what I do
or say. I did not mean to be impertinent to her to-day, and I wish I
hadn't slammed the door; but how could I help it, Miss Emily, when she
told me before Mr. Graham, that I tore up the last night's _Journal_,
and I _know_ that I did not. It was an old paper that she saw me tying
your slippers up in, and I am almost sure that she lit the library fire
with the _Journal_ herself; but Mr. Graham will always think I did it."

"I have no doubt, Gertrude, that you had reason to feel provoked, and I
believe you when you say that you were not to blame for the loss of the
newspaper. But remember, my dear, that there is no merit in being
patient and good-tempered, when there is nothing to irritate you. I want
you to learn to bear even injustice, without losing your self-control.
Mrs. Ellis has been here a number of years; she has had everything her
own way, and is not used to young people. She felt, when you came, that
it was bringing new care and trouble upon her, and it is not strange
that when things go wrong she should sometimes think you in fault. She
is a very faithful woman, very kind and attentive to me, and very
important to my father. It will make me unhappy if I have any reason to
fear that you and she will not live pleasantly together."

"I do not want to make you unhappy; I do not want to be a trouble to
anybody," said Gertrude, with some excitement; "I'll go away! I'll go
off somewhere, where you will never see me again!"

"Gertrude!" said Emily, seriously and sadly. Her hands were still upon
the young girl's shoulders, and, as she spoke, she turned her round, and
brought her face to face with herself. "Gertrude, do you wish to leave
your blind friend? Do you not love me?" So touchingly grieved was the
expression of the cou