upbraiding. Never was a girl more penitent than Malina amid the silence of that funereal dwelling. The heart which can reproach itself needs no other accuser, and that which cannot, will remain hardened to the reproaches, however just, which come from another. Malina filled her glass, and entering the house, gave the neglected robin some drink. The grateful bird began to flutter his wings, and plunging into the water, sent a shower of drops over his cage. Malina was so occupied with him that she did not observe when the door-yard gate fell to with a slight sound, and Mr. Mosier, the young clergyman, came slowly along the footpath leading to the front door; and when she did hear his step upon the threshold, her eyes drooped and she began to tremble as if there had been something to apprehend in his sudden presence. Mr. Mosier approached the young girl, and addressed her in those calm low tones which her heart had learned to answer too thrillingly. “It was kind to think of the bird,” he said almost smiling upon her, “our friend that is gone mentioned it but the day before he died; he gave it to you, Miss Gray, and that with many grateful thanks for all your kindness.” Malina’s bosom heaved and she strove to conceal the tears that sprung to her eyes, by a quick motion of the heavy lashes that veiled them. “He has left other tokens of his regard,” continued the young divine, kindly observing her. “A clergyman with his benevolent habits is not likely to become rich, but this quiet old house and the savings of his income are left behind and for you—he has no legal heirs.” Malina lifted her large eyes to the minister’s face with a look of mute astonishment, and it was a moment before she comprehended him. “Oh, no, no,” she said at last, bursting into tears, “he could not, I never deserved it. It was Phebe that he meant. It must have been Phebe.” “You will find that I am correct,” said Mr. Mosier; “indeed I can hardly see how it should be otherwise, for never was there so faithful or so kind a nurse.” Malina did not speak, but a rosy flood swelled over her neck and face, which glowed warmly beneath the concealment of her hands. These were the first words of commendation she had ever heard from that voice, and she was lost in the delicious pleasure they excited. At length she removed her tremulous hands and looked up, but instantly the silken lashes drooped over her eyes again, and she blushed and trembled beneath his gaze. Yet his look was tranquil and kind, only it was the tumult of her own feelings which made the young creature ashamed to meet it, feelings all pure and innocent, but full of timidity and misgiving.