soul, and till you judge more truly of those who most esteem you!” “Too true!—it is too true!” Marian replied, “no one has ever loved me as you have done, sweet Annabel—and now no one will love me any more—no one—no one forever. But you are wrong, quite wrong, when you suppose that any one has injured me, or that as yet I have _done_ any wrong—alas! alas! that I should even have _thought_ sin! Oh no—no Annabel, dear Annabel, I will bear all my woes myself, and God will give me grace to conquer all temptations. Pardon me, sister dear, pardon me; for it is not that I am ashamed, or that I fear to tell you, but that, to save my own life, I would plant no thorn in your calm bosom. No! I will see you happy, and will resist the evil one that he shall flee from me, and God will give me strength, and you will pray for me, and we shall _all_ be blessed.” As she spoke thus, the wildness and the strangeness of her manner passed away, and a calm smile flickered across her features, and she looked her sister steadfastly in the eye, and cast her arms about her neck and kissed her tenderly as she finished speaking. But it was plain to see that Annabel was by no means satisfied; whether it was that she was anxious merely, and uneasy about the discomposure of her sister’s mind, or whether something of suspicion had disturbed the even tenor of her own, but her color came and went more quickly than was usual to her, and the glance of her gentle blue eye dwelt with a doubting and irresolute expression on Marian’s face as she made answer—