Lotte quietly took a firm hold of her elegant mantle, and then replied, in an earnest tone-- “Pardon me! you are smitten by some terrible grief.” “Well!” replied the young lady, coldly, as Lotte paused. “Oh, do not repel me!” she cried, fervidly; “pray do not. I am aware it may appear intrusive and rude in me to trespass upon your sorrow”---- “You are right; it is both rude and intrusive. Leave me!” interrupted the young lady, a little vehemently, endeavouring at the same time, to remove her mantle from Lotte’s grasp, but she retained her hold, and continued in urgent tones-- “As Heaven is my witness, I am animated by no common motives! You are a lady: I am humble. Grief knows no distinction: the human heart is susceptible of misery, though a diadem may glitter upon the brow of its possessor. The rich are not exempt from its blight, even though it be the common inheritance of the poor. I have been destitute, am poor”---- The young lady turned her unbending head away, still cold and stern. By a rapid movement, she drew a purse from the pocket of her dress; and, offering it to Lotte, said, almost harshly-- “Take it and leave me!” “Oh, madam! madam!” cried Lotte, passionately, “do not misconstrue me. You are a woman, as I am; we are both equal in the eyes of the Creator. He gave us our lives to hold in trust--not to fling wildly away, and rush unbidden into His dread presence.” The startling energy of Lotte’s tones caused the young lady to recede a pace, and mutter something which was inaudible. Lotte, in her excitement, changed her grip from the mantle to the wrist of the young creature she was addressing. “Look there!” she cried, in a low tone, but with a terrible emphasis. She pointed to the dark, sluggish, leaden-hued mass of water, stretching east and west. “Look upon that dark vaporous river, the graveyard of the madly despairing. I stood upon the brink of a river mightier and blacker than that before you; upon its very edge I stood, prepared to spring into its deadly depths, because I was friendless, homeless, hopeless--do you mark me?” The haughty girl cowered. “I do,” she murmured. “As with a bitter wail of sorrowing distraction, even such as now burst from your lips, I was about to leap out of life, I was seized by the wrist, as I now seize you, and by a friend. To shame me from my dreadful purpose, God had sent to me a friend, as--as he now sends me to you.” She fell upon her knees, and clasped the hands of the young lady. “Oh! believe that, though humble, I can and will do all within my power to serve you, to console you, to soothe the dreadful anguish which urges you to crime beyond redemption.” “Nothing can console or soothe me,” hoarsely replied the young lady. “Let me free; I have nothing more to do with life.”