Ida left her thus--writhing under the scorpion-lash of remorse, and rejecting consolation. She met Josephine, a square or two from home, and upon the door-step, Mr. Lacy. Admitting him, she ran up stairs to efface the marks of her recent agitation. Her pallor and swollen eyes remained, however, and did not escape him. He did not begin, as many would have done, in his place, to speak of topics entirely foreign to what was in their thoughts; he wished to apply a curative, not an anodyne. "Charley tells me you are going to the country, before long;" he said. "I do not regret it, as I should if I were to stay here myself. After the first of April, I shall study at home, until autumn. You are to pay your friend Carry a visit, are you not?" "Yes." "She is the 'sister' I have heard so much of?" "The same--I wish you knew her." "I think I do. Her cheerful society is what you need. While it is neither possible, nor desirable to forget that we have been bereaved, we should beware how we indulge in a luxury of woe. Our duty to those we have lost, does not oblige us to neglect the friends who are spared to us." "Very few remain to me," said Ida, tremulously. "You are wrong. You may never find one who will fill his place; but the rest love you the more, that you are afflicted. Charley is a true brother." "He is--and of late he is more unreserved, more affectionate than he used to be; his sympathy is very sweet. I must speak of yourself, also, Mr. Lacy, although I have no language to thank you for your kindness. I fear I have been wearisome at times; but you seem to understand why this was no common bereavement to me." "So far from being wearied, I am grateful for your confidence. No act of mine shall cause you to repent it." "Charley has given me some lines which he thinks were written recently," said Ida. "They were among some loose sheets in a portfolio of drawings. I wept over them, but they comforted me. I have been wishing that you had them. This is a rough copy, you observe; and probably not read after being penned." Mr. Lacy's eyes filled, as he read at the top of the page, "11-1/2 P.M., after a visit from M. L." "ALL IN CHRIST. Jesus, Saviour! from Thy dwelling, High all stars and thrones above, Hear my faltering accents, telling Of weak faith and smouldering love. Poor love for Thee, the only worthy-- Dull faith In Thee, the only wise-- While to all things base and earthy, How madly cling my wistful eyes! I am blind! in rough paths groping, With outstretched hands and sightless eyes; Through gloom so dense, I scarce am hoping That dawn will ever gild the skies. Black, grisly spectres hover o'er me, Filling my quaking soul with fright; Thou--of all worlds the sun and glory, Radiant Redeemer! be my light.