“This,” she said, in soft tones, purposely made so that she might give strength and encouragement to the young lady to speak--“this is my home, all my home; for the limits of my property are bounded by these walls. But here I sit the day long, employed at my needle, the song of my little bird ringing joyously in my ears, the bright sky shining beyond my windows, the fresh air coming in among my flowers; and, being so fortunate as to have no lack of employment, I am as happy as the day is long.” She paused and looked at her companion. Her hand was to her face, her bowed head yet partly concealed by her veil. Lotte knelt suddenly, but softly, at her feet, and took both her hands in hers. “It is not so long,” she said, in yet lower tones, “since I was waked in my sleep by the wild cry of fire. The house in which I dwelt was a mass of living flame. The noble intrepidity of young Mr. Vivian--you do not know him--ah! he is such a fine, hand-some-looking youth--saved my life. Circumstances placed me where this dire calamity most deeply affected me. What shall I say? I became a hopeless, homeless outcast. I sought refuge from my despair in an attempt to die by my own hand--yet I am here; I can wear a smile on my face, a song is ever on my lips, and I have a contented heart. Nay, let your eyes rest on mine--there is hope for all--hope for the most despairing, hope even for those whose crimes seem most to repel it--will you believe that for you only there is no hope?” “Not on this earth--not on this earth,” murmured the young stranger, plaintively. “Upon this earth, and There, even Where you least expect it,” cried Lotte, with energy, pointing heavenward. Then she raised her hands and gently unfastened the superb brooch which confined the mantle worn by her companion, letting her garment fall from her shoulders behind her where she sat. “Pardon me,” she said, “I would not offend you, nor would I seem troublesomely attentive, but I have elevated myself to the post of foster-sister, and I wish to perform the duties I have undertaken.” As she said this, she, with the same gentle violence which forbade the impulsive resistance offered slightly by the young lady, removed her bonnet, and the two girls now looked into each other’s eyes with unimpeded gaze. Lotte saw the sharp traces of recent illness upon the pale features of the young lady as strongly as the lines which developed hopeless woe, and her heart was drawn yet closer to her new companion. She saw that her features were beautiful; she detected in the thin, finely-shaped aquiline nose, the small ear, the delicate lips, and the exquisitely transparent skin, the well-defined evidences of aristocratic birth. She detected also that the impression she had previously entertained of having before somewhere seen the face on which now she gazed, was confirmed, and she said quietly-- “I have seen you before.” “You have,” said the young lady, laconically.