"I never can be happy myself unless I see others happy round me," thought Bessie, rather mournfully; "and Edna has taken this disappointment so badly that I am afraid she will make us all suffer for it." But in this opinion she was wrong. Her acquaintance with Edna had been brief, and she had no suspicion of the intense pride that blended with Edna's wilfulness, nor of the tenacity, strange in such a bright young creature, that could quietly maintain its purpose under a careless, light-hearted exterior. Edna had evidently been ashamed of her outburst of temper on the previous evening, for she came down on Sunday morning looking a little pale and subdued, and very gentle in her manner to her mother and Bessie. She seemed to ignore Richard; beyond a cold good morning she did not vouchsafe him a word or a look; and as all his overtures toward reconciliation were passed over in chilling silence, he soon left her to herself. They all went to church together, and as they walked through the lanes Edna seemed to recover her buoyancy. She laughed and chatted with her mother, and made sprightly speeches in her usual way; and no one could have judged from her manner that there was a spot of bitterness under the smooth surface--an angry consciousness that Richard had dared to cross her will. Ah, well! there are many beside Edna who enter God's house with their darling sin hugged close to their bosom, fondled and cherished. Truly we may say we are miserable sinners, and that there is no health in us, for the black plague spot is often hidden under the white vesture, undetected by human insight, but clearly legible to the "Eye that seeth not as man seeth." Once Bessie looked up from her hymn-book as Edna's clear, high notes reached her ear. Edna seemed singing with all her heart: "Oh, Paradise! Oh, Paradise! Who does not crave for rest?" Her brown eyes were soft with feeling, there was a sweet, almost angelic look upon her face; a passing emotion possessed her. Alas, that such moods should be transitory! And yet it has ever been so in the world's history. Unsanctified human nature is always fickle, and the "Hosanna" of yesterday become the "Crucify Him" of to-day. After their early luncheon, Edna asked Bessie if she would go with her to see the Athertons. "Mamma indulges in a nap on Sunday afternoons," she explained, "and as I am not fond of my own company, I run in and have a chat with the girls." "If you would excuse me," returned Bessie, looking rather uncomfortable, "I would so much rather stay at home. You see, I have been accustomed to spend Sunday very quietly. We have never paid visits as some people do. Church and Sunday-school and a little sacred music and reading, and the day soon passes. If you do not mind, I would rather sit in the garden, or take a stroll through those lovely lanes, than go to the Athertons'." Edna looked exceedingly amused at this speech, and at Bessie's hot cheeks.